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Thread: Loving 'Til Nightfall

  1. #1

    Default Loving 'Til Nightfall (MultiShipping)

    Loving 'Til Nightfall

    [inspired by the individual challenges on livejournal and Fanfiction]

    Loving 'Til Nightfall (on

    ~ Introduction ~

    * I wrote the following short stories by deciding to shuffle my iTunes playlist and use a song for inspiration. I would let the song play on repeat for a maximum of 10 times to write out a story following one of the shippings listed below and following the theme of discovering the truth about relationships around the night. These are not songfics, nor are they drabbles; they are just short stories that hopefully are original insights into the characters and the storyline. *

    ~ List of Shippings ~


    ~ Rating ~

    T or PG-13 (sparse language, mild sexual references but there will be mature themes)

    ~ Notes ~

    Listen to the songs as you read the chapter. I know that some of these are short compared to the length of the song but I think it would enhance the reading experience.

    It really helps for the author to get some feedback. I know there are plenty of people here who review other stories and so it's perfectly acceptable for me to expect some. Please do consider dropping a line or two on anything about the story or better yet, on how it made you feel.


    In the brightest hour of my darkest day
    (Forever from “Papa Roach”)


    He hated staring off into nothing but black ink over a vast and unblinking sky. It made him even more impatient than he hated to admit and there were times when boredom soaked him so thoroughly that he couldn’t move for hours. It might have helped him if the forest wasn’t so empty during the dark hours, leaving him alone and on the grass facing the sky. There were hardly any clouds these days and even when there were some, they swirled over the thin moon, which hung in an almost pitiful way, as if the light it begged from the sun daily was being delivered out of spite. Still, it was beautiful in a way, to see the deepness of blue become black and then lighten hours later as the earth turned to let the sun spill over the distant ridges.

    The sparks dying under the assortment of gray branches glowed brighter than the points of white above and the rich smell of pine wafted over him. There was a light breeze and the leaves whistled sweetly, the lingering drops of rain falling in intervals of silence. The storm had passed but the smell of it and the sound of thunder crashing about the trees as the clouds churned and light splintered was still there. He could sense the watchfulness of the forest echo around him, waiting for the next rainfall in the hush of night.

    And the quiet made him ache so he gritted his teeth and waited for sunrise. With the arrival of day he would not remember anything but walking and battling and that loneliness was something he craved. He wasn’t trying to escape from anything, he was facing it, and the storm had found that out; it had to pass after failing to push him into the mud, the rain pelting his clothes and face. He did not need anyone to remind him he was facing an entire world, the world full of people who did not seem to understand that smiles had to fade but one’s eyes could always cry. He closed his eyes and focused on the sound of grass and crickets and an empty, lonely moon.

    But he couldn’t help but remember everything at night, when the world was asleep and he was running away from her and her ever-present smile. Her hair was even bluer than the sky and it shone even brighter in the dark when she stood over him, with a questioning smile and curious whispers waking him from the small amount of sleep he had managed to hold onto. He hated how she always managed to find him, as if she had discovered, in her annoying, slightly endearing way, an escape in his company. He didn’t need to talk to her or even acknowledge her but she seemed to fuel herself, ascending even higher on her cloud of absurd happiness. What did she feel in the coming of day that her voice lifted and her arms waved and her cheerful wink provoked his hidden grimace even more?

    She had her lows and she was easily frustrated- he always noticed it when she bit her lip- and she needed to know that she existed and was making a place in the world for her name- a glint came into her eye, brighter than all the others- and she loved whatever was pretty and small and colorful- he would muse to himself that her skin was like snow over a cherry blossom and her hair was like sapphires melted- and then he would jerk himself awake. What made her so omnipresent that even the forest in all of its dank and mottled glory welcomed her?

    There was a way about her, the way that she managed to understand that there was something called competition and fighting and victory, but she always seemed to be ahead of it, not behind. This only made him furrow his violet brows and his clench his tanned fists- how was it that she could lose, afford to lose, when you had to run to stay forward? He could never let himself slip- the hill would not give him footing, it would only let him roll down and set him at the bottom where he would struggle to find the strength to run up again.

    Maybe he needed to walk up to her and demand an answer; it was not like him to ask of anything from someone, let alone a strange, weird, almost fantastical girl like her but the situation was as complex. Maybe after ironing himself out so many times so that he was one short sentence of drive and focus, her roundabout way, led by peppy quips and contagious excitement, was a solution. To what? - he had no clue, especially since he wasn’t even sure he had a problem. On the other hand, she was sure he had one, lecturing him, taunting him in her uneducated, childish way; he detested himself every time he listened closely to her immaturity, making sure his attention was never apparent.

    The wind rose into a howl and a droplet fell on his hand; he instinctively flinched. The clouds had darkened and swelled up again and it seemed as if the storm still lived. Night was too long to bear, he grumbled and he pushed himself up, collecting his sparse belongings and trudging away from the clearing. She seemed particularly intent to talk to him tonight, never waiting for a response, simply eager to resound in his head. Her boots skipped over wet grass and her cap bobbed like a lantern guiding him to another nightmare of giggles and liveliness.

    He had learned that covering his ears or shaking his head or even humming had not worked. She visited at night and he would have to play audience. She didn’t need applause, she just needed to find that his eyes were still open at the end and she would wave good morning and disappear. It was infuriating to let a girl get the best of him but she was so slight and thin that he had no choice but to endure it and ignore the urge to maintain eye contact. He knew a bystander would have inferred that the both of them were a pair of people with no communication skills whatsoever, if she was really there and visible. At the same time, he thought it was pleasant that his silence was her cue and he made no move to change that balance.

    She eventually did leave; she always did. And it was then that he hated himself even more, unable to find hate in himself for her alone- he would secretly wish that the day end so night could start again. So she could come back and he could pretend that he really didn’t like loss of sleep, her stories, her.

    Maybe that was his problem, he realized, pausing on the trail, eyes wide. She knew it, that he was giving a false pretense, that he enjoyed-

    He stopped himself. If he rushed to conclusions, there would always be the chance he was wrong. Even though at that point, there was no other answer, he sighed and went on his way again. He had to make sure that he actually tolerated her, as in he didn’t mind her coming into his thoughts every hour of the day. That he was looking forward to seeing her, even if she was beside two other irritating individuals with the same sickening optimism that seemed to hover like a bulb over his want of solitude. He would need some more time to think about that, he figured; in the meantime, she was welcome to announce herself in the night and continue her maddeningly playful, silly, young, charming talks.

    So she smiled and babbled on, and he listened raptly as he always did on those cool summer nights.


    A/N: So the song didn't totally match with the fic, but the first half before the chorus did so I'm glad ^^ truth be told, I am not used to writing something like a story in a matter of minutes so I had to do the repeating rule XD but I am pleased the way this first one turned out; it should be obvious that the shipping is Ikarishipping with Paul and Dawn :P
    Last edited by dandelionheart; 18th November 2008 at 3:50 AM.

  2. #2



    But still the second hand will catch us
    (Until the Day I Die from “Story of the Year”)


    The pavilion was still crowded although the contest playing out amid the deafening roar of eager fans was drawing to a close. Kenny pushed his way through, trying to ignore the many feet and arms he had stepped on or pushed aside as he stumbled forward. The riotous crowd seemed to sway with the energy of the Pokémons’ graceful, powerful movements and the blare from the speakers merged with the excited yells of the spectators so that his eardrums throbbed and his ears burned. He dove deeper into the throng, intent on reaching the front row for a clear view of the plasma television screen.

    At times, the crowd quieted down to a bearable threshold long enough for the competitors onscreen to deliver a few commands and let their Pokémon follow through with a clash of sparks or flames or jets of water that tore across the battlefield, vivid in color and delivery. Kenny slipped between two pairs of thrashing arms and stood before all the others, breathing deeply and glancing upwards. A smile instantly lit upon his lips when he caught sight of her.

    Dawn was dressed in yet another gown, periwinkle blue with sequins that sparkled as it rippled from the gusts hurtled towards her by the impact of attack on attack, Pokémon on Pokémon. Her eyes narrowed, and she fought to look past the haze of brown, trying to concentrate on the task before her and the victory she had already envisioned. He could tell she was absorbed in the now, unable to comprehend that there was a host of fans or judges surveying the match critically or a young man miles away, enraptured by the sight of living innocence. She was hopeful and her reassuring words of confidence were obvious to all, though none could not tell how she termed them exactly amidst the din. Still, no one could see that she was worried, tense, stressed that her advantages were wearing thin by the way she seemed to glare with equal drive as her partner at the resourcefulness of their rivals.

    Kenny could tell; he crossed his arms and watched, his mouth a set, grim line and his eyes moving rapidly to note every movement and possible strategy that could arise. She was waiting and the rope was taut, pulling tighter still until he blinked in surprise and saw it- the way to win.

    Dawn’s mouth formed two words and then his eyes flashed with pride; her partner streaked down the stretch and launched the right attack at the unguarded opponent. The roar of approval on the television and live audience was drowned by the pounding of his heart asking for oxygen. But he refused to inhale until he caught sight of Dawn, noticing her tears, glowing with the salt of happiness, brimming on her dark lashes. His smile settled back into the cool gaze he had worn while fighting his way to the front. The commentator’s enthusiasm matched the swelling noise of the assembly and then, at such a loud level, it became quiet and Kenny turned around, finding easy passage for exiting the marquee.

    Twilight tinged the sky and the lampposts, the windows of closing shops a mirror to the pedestrians ambling by. Kenny pushed his hands into his pockets, feeling the soft fuzz of lint and looked up at the darkening sky. It was the same hue as the sky days ago when he had talked to her last, interrupting her laughs to rush a question, his eyes hopeful but also braced for defeat. The answer came without words as she stared and finally moved away awkwardly as he apologized; he later thought about it, wondering for the fiftieth time, had he done anything wrong? It was nearly midnight when she whispered his name, entering his room with a gentle tap and her eyes downcast. She said what he knew she would say but had always imagined it to be the response to the others who asked her. Everyone but just not him.
    He had laughed the moment she left and then, pushing his hands into his curly brown hair, he sat unaware of the passage of time for hours, wondering what he had been waiting for. He was still waiting for something- the silver lining, the light at the end of the tunnel…where were the consolation prizes promised after the inevitable failure?

    The murmurs of a passing couple broke his reverie. His throat tightened and he let his head fall until it was grazing the top of his chest. There was something to be told for the way innocence was spelled; it wasn’t the odd moral and rare thought of self-righteousness- it was the way someone refused to let another person fall without a hand extended to help them rise up. In that sense, Dawn had left him, bruised and wallowing in shame, as a symbol of her loss of innocence; ‘she was mature and ready for the world’ he could hear the skeptics say.

    At the same time, he disagreed, knowing that it was his mistake. It wasn’t his fault to try and ask her, but it was certainly quite the error on his part to demand something of her, a girl always unready. Always ready for the world but unready for him, and the reality had to come crashing about his feet like confetti cracking from the ceiling of a Contest hall.

    Nevertheless- it would soon be night and at twelve he’d wait for her to walk by, because he knew that she would always come if he called, no matter how many times he would ask her to pull him up- it was also a relief. Weighing someone down was painful for both sides, waiting for a letter was hard for the person trying to etch out the words, loving someone who left you trying to hate them but just couldn’t, it was the reality in dawn, and it was all very funny.

    The pavilion was now empty; he had circled the community center and he was back to the beginning, idly studying how the black night covered all the other colors. Pink, purple, all the shades of red, orange, and blue- he closed his eyes and listened to the silence, the real silence of nothing there.

    In it, he was standing alone and she was beside him and even there in his vision where anything he wanted to happen could come true, he saw the divide and a hand reaching for hers, a browned one struggling to grasp hers, screaming silently for it. And in it, he was unable to feel her pale, slender one as she went farther and farther away.


    A/N: Penguinshipping FTW! XD I love this shipping but as soon as this song popped up, the whole possible tragic aspect was perfect and since this one is short, you should read it while you listen to this awesome song ^.~ As you can tell, I included the names here and that's just because it didn't seem so much of an introspective story as a reflective one...anyways, please leave comments on what you thought, I am eager to hear anything you readers say! =)

  3. #3



    Or I can blink and make you crumble from the inside
    (They All Fall Down from “SR-71”)


    She was trembling but her eyes were transfixed on his as he smirked. She was the easiest to manipulate; it was their little game he would whisper and she would simply shudder in fright.

    The nights were so dark that they were getaways, a glowing type of solace in which he could rest and find some peace, and a way to her. It would only take a few steps to her right and a tap on her shoulder and she would spin around, her milky brown strands fluttering over her flushed cheeks. Then he would smile and wave his hand and try to find a number of ways to move his arm around her so that he would be holding her somehow.

    The pink on the bridge of her nose and the glimmer of something else than comfort in her eyes was enough for him. It was more than enough after stalking quietly in those dark hours, trying to resist the urge to yell her name, draw attention, pull her into an actual embrace.

    It was their little game; hide and seek he called it once and she had meekly agreed, trying to avoid his pointed stare and brushing fingertips.

    It was not as if he was spoiling her though; he continued to spite her, tease her, mercilessly critique her and what she did in that high tone he had perfected. Disguises sometimes helped the game he had noticed and using that simple observation, his gyrating hips and effeminate laughter helped the charade. It was disgusting, but it was a disguise and he loved to see her unsettled, unaware, only a breath away but not quite sure what was happening.

    The technique had hardly been perfected; in the past, his anger had led him to even hurting her, and though emotionally she was still such an easy target (he smiled as he taunted), it was not as severe. He was testing the waters, learning to find the signs and see what she was feeling or thinking. Drew could disagree and expose his flustered pubescent emotions but he was amounting to nothing more than absolute nothing; he had learned nothing either.

    It was a similar type of game; the girl who was all soft and curved bringing the men ignorant and yet wise, to education. Drew was still young- he didn’t understand that the “give and take” dynamic was overdone to a whipped (and dead) horse. Such things were trivial to amount to the game; it was all about never letting go.

    May was another type of girl, one of the competitors who didn’t seem to be too fazed by his wonderful acting either on or off the arena. He hadn’t met anyone quite like her (this was not completely a positive compliment though), and it was interesting to hold onto the fishing line and watch the fish collapse and twist. Her pretty scales flashed in the light but after a while it was subdued; not by death in her case, of course.

    Yes, there was the beginning (when he had seriously underestimated her and when she had yet to stand up for her own strength) that led them down the wrong path. But these days, there were only the successes; he could find anything to say and say it. And all she would need to do was find some way to defend herself and reciprocate the way he cocked his head and shifted his brows. Bad boys were for the girls who didn’t have him; May had scored early on the prize.

    It was refreshing to view her as someone up in arms against the opposition, smiling at her rivals, flirting with knives (letting Drew only stagger deeper into the shallows)- but she was too gentle to let anyone find her as anything but warm and welcoming. He had no intention of making May into himself but he couldn’t help but smile at how she couldn’t let go of the cheeriness required of her- good, nice girls who could only profess an interest in the opposite sex discreetly and with little company. Puzzles and keys, the whole she-bang- what a match, he could mentally crow as he twirled a lock of her brown hair around his fingers. Opposites attract, he would think later, lamenting the fact that he had not hugged her good-bye.

    She could say that she wished he was nicer- the temperament, anger management, and attitude adjustment- but it was obvious she wanted the mean streak. It was impossible to ignore the way her eyes grew wider and brighter as he directed each poison tipped arrow into her. It felt like an accomplishment each time and he could only ask her (through the eyes of course) why she hadn’t come out yet and simply stated that there was a
    reason she wasn’t pushing him away?

    ‘It’s because I know you very well May,’ he said seriously in her place and she laughed quietly, her sweet smile only tempting him more. He was capable of plenty, perhaps even many things that one would not suspect him of doing- but that was why he was the master of games and she was his favorite toy. Forget Drew, it was any other boy as well- he had the security of a female and the cunning of a man to fend off the uninvited. May was set with him and the unfortunates choosing to try and seduce her were left behind an iron fence.

    His game plan already covered those matters-that no matter what he teased, Drew’s persistence in failure had resulted in a streak. May didn’t need denial and inner turmoil; all of what mattered was on the outside anyways (let the already strained hormones rest for a bit!).

    Logic defied his actions for her really; was she that exceptional that he found himself needing to do this? Self-masochism- he would reflect wryly and laugh- in private, it was deep and without a squeal. His true self was no stranger to the thoughts of her in his head. She was simply too innocent to resist- he could trail his fingers along her spine and mutter the most provoking of things into her small ears but she could take it all down with no realization whatsoever.

    That’s the key he thought, making his way near her and then she was leaning into his side. There was not much left to cover, he had to just initiate the step she was too afraid to do herself, and the exit door would be flung open for them. So much exposition, where was the climax? Way behind, he grumbled.

    Still he was patient. There would come a time for the proper ending, and the next path would be quite less challenging. As for what came next he ignored; the small girl he was guarding was certainly not so trivial as to be left behind.

    After all, she had already proven to be good company for a long period of time and she seemed to think of the most intriguing things to say or do. He’d keep her, he thought, beaming down at her as he caught her once more, a gentle spider cradling the lone butterfly in his waxed web.


    A/N: Oh what a crack pairing XD no offense to anyone who supports or likes this couple, but really, what kind of appeal does it hold? lol Anyways, this was a ton of fun to write, especially since SR-71 is the best and this song is made for these two (as a couple...O.O) again, you should listen to the song while reading this chapter =D please leave a review!

  4. #4



    Then and there that exceeds all we can dream
    (So I Thought from “Flyleaf”)


    The chirp of crickets, the rustling of wind on grass…it was a symphony for her and her alone as she lay on her bed, curled into the covers and ignoring the sweat slipping down her neck and temples. The spring was sticky and humid this year and even the cool of the night, when shade colored the sky and a breeze breathed onto the trees, seemed to be evaporating into heat.

    The girl, still nestled deeper in her cocoon, ensconced in blankets, sweat, and tears that had not yet run from her eyes, was quivering in a waking dream. The room was dim but the red of her hair shone from the moonlight, a red sea cascading over covered shoulders and a cell phone on her side, glowing faintly.

    She was counting in her head, reciting the same phrase over and over…eleven hours. Eleven hours. Good god, eleven hours. A tear finally fell, sinking into the silence and dryness of the pillow and she whispered ‘why’ to the tinted clouds and humming birds.

    Eleven hours since he had come back and with that same smile, waved at her hello and goodbye. It was at the same time, she realized, watching him as he approached and left, too; it was as if she was at the shore of some miserable ship that could never anchor where she stood but it seemed to never quite disappear over the horizon.

    So she was drowning in the heat, the melted water of the air that choked her and the memory of a simple eleven hours ago. That long, and still so short; she buried her face under the welcoming darkness and stifling heat of the sheets.

    His hair was as black as she had remembered, but she could smell the winds that had touched it and knew that he had gone far beyond her, where she could not follow…her hands tightened their grip around her arms. His eyes were no longer the black holes of impudence and drive; they were experienced and deep and she locked her gaze on them, trying to pull away from her growing fear that he had seen more than she ever would and would need to see more and more…she cried at last.

    It was now twelve hours since he had politely asked her how she had been and what she had been doing for the long years she had been absent from his side. He noted that her hair had flowed down her back, no longer in a stub of a tress. He noticed that her skin was tanned from hours in the sun, that her hands bore more calluses than usual, that she was quiet and didn’t seem to be in the room though they sat facing each other, her blank gaze on his eager smile.

    She was here, she wanted to tell him, gritting her teeth. It was him who had suddenly intruded, expelling the pleasant ghost she had entertained for forever and bringing in a different sort of person that she didn’t mind other than for the fact that he was no longer hers. Her memory was a memory, captured in a bottle and shattered twelve hours ago.

    She didn’t need affirmation that he would not be staying, that he had more places to go, people to see, more hearts to break. The boy she had come to love in a way she had detested and also cherished, was fading away before her eyes, thawing into a wax figure- pretty and dark and not hers.

    Twelve hours ago. Still his dark hair and eyes, flashing in the light and boring into her own- they were inextinguishable. She was water- how had she not seen he was flame?

    Don’t go anywhere. That was her own line, the one idea she held true to when she waited for him, hoping that he wouldn’t leave, and would even remember that a certain girl who had a fondness for the sea and for pulling his cheeks and snarling at him and cheering for him and waiting for him and loving just for him…twelve hours ago. A revolution of the clock, the turn of the earth, the beep of a message on her phone- they were hers to keep. She reminded herself to thank him for the mementos and then a sob tore from her throat and she kicked out, her brain screaming for oxygen; the covers floated up, fresh air rushing to meet her splayed limbs and tear streaked face.

    She felt utterly vulnerable…and she was deathly afraid of it. How had she become so soft, so tender in places inside that it seemed something was still breaking, cracking, hurting every second, every hour? She had never known that she had wanted a place again beside him this terribly; but here she was, her hair stuck to her skin, her pores sucking in the night air, she was one with the night. It was as black as his hair and eyes but never as bright.

    What had happened twelve hours ago? What had happened to the girl in the mirror just a few minutes before he had brought himself to the entrance and exit, trying to appraise and critique and design herself…for him. All for him, keeper of her clock and time.

    The phone chimed but she ignored it, though her face turned slightly to the right and she stared at it, the device that brought his voice to her ears. They burned now, as if he was there, yelling in his impatient way- oh wait, he was patient now. All muscle and tan and hands loving and warm and foreign and legs that had walked away, far away from her.

    The crickets had died and the trees had fallen and everything was still and silent. The sea roared and it washed over her, slipping under her eyelids, bringing in new, briny tears. It was taking her away, away from everywhere, the places he had gone and would undoubtedly go to. She was being carried away, far away and he was far away too…any chance they might meet again, going in opposite directions of a round world?

    She didn’t care anymore, she whispered, echoing the same thing she had said as he had grinned goodbye. Her forearm settled over her eyes and she let him walk away, ready for the day to come.

    It’s all yours, I’m all yours but please, as you’re leaving…

    …don’t forget to not forget me.


    A/N: This used to be one of my absolute fave ships, Pokeshipping as is obvious, but now I see just no compatibility! I mean I love Misty and Ash but together? No XD However, this song was so perfect for them, read as you listen to it, it is gorgeous and so true...and this couple deserved a nice and sad fic XD Enjoyed? Please review! =D
    Last edited by dandelionheart; 29th September 2008 at 1:31 AM.

  5. #5
    Join Date
    Nov 2006
    somewhere that isn't here.


    People need to pay more attention to fics nowadays. They're missing out on these. Honestly, I don't know many people who can write such great oneshots without the dialogue. Dialogue is always a major factor in fics and stuff so I'm in awe at the fact you're able to write a story with basically just description!

    Your fic makes me want to improve my descriptio, like seriously. Plus I like many of the couples you're going to write and have written, which is a bonus as I'm some mad multiple shipper, hence why I write fics that are somewhere in my sig... XD *shot for advertising*

    In any case, try to make it more obvious who the characters are. Some I don't think mention any names and you're not 100% sure of who they are at times. While it can be an effective technique, it gets boring fast if you do that for every oneshot. So more mention of the characters' names might be a little nice.

    Otherwise, keep up the good work and hopefully more people will notice these oneshots... Maybe I should try something like what you did and do some song oneshot challenge thingy... I'll ponder it, I've got too many fanfiction plans... XD


  6. #6


    Someone reviewed 0.o
    *hugs you out of sheer joy*

    First off, thank you so much for your review. I honestly was smiling until it hurt while reading it, especially because I was afraid something serious like this would never get any attention ^^; but your kind words have only made me more motivated to continue this, thank you =)

    I will take into account naming people too XD As I was writing some of these, I was thinking to go ahead and just put down the names but I didn't know if it was necessary...but since you suggested it, I will definitely start making the characters obvious to the reader. Thanks again!

  7. #7



    You must live for me, too
    (Cat and Mouse from “Red Jumpsuit Apparatus”)


    “Misty called again. She said that she missed you. She wished you were there last night but she understands. You were busy. She hopes you get some free time this week. Take care Drew. Hope to talk to you again.”

    Drew had to hold in his amusement until he heard the click of the phone through the receiver and static humming softly. Then he laughed a strangled laugh that broke as he fell to his knees and took in a quivering breath.

    He had not said a word when May called, her light voice even airier as he pressed the phone to his ear, knowing that her mouth was pressed against the speaker, her lips moving slowly. She must have understood that the times when he would respond, voice tight and eyes closed, had passed and silence was his answering machine. That had not decreased the number of calls, the number of times when he didn’t speak so her voice wouldn’t be interrupted. Just a few moments of solace he thought bitterly, because her one-sided talks were brief and in a few seconds she would cut the call and turn to the man waiting with a frown behind her.

    What did she say to him? Or did she say nothing at all, choosing to wrap her arms around his waist and press her cheek to his chest instead?

    As for what she had said moments before to him, he could have cared less. It was always the same, her gentle, calm rebuke on his absences from Misty’s house, the way he conveniently slipped out of engagements and only lingered for minutes at her many things to criticize and such little time.

    That one, that girl, Misty- must be alone. She must be at the gym, fingers trailing in the water, her hair undone, her eyes lost as she waited ever so patiently for him. It was always the same mental picture; it was hard to see the girl with hard green eyes and soft red hair ignoring or even forgetting him, the boy resting on his kitchen floor, shivering from the cold tiles.

    He wondered if it was snowing. He remembered that he was running low on eggs and that he needed to go by the dry-cleaners. He remembered that May’s birthday was exactly two weeks away and that his present needed ribbons and foil. He remembered that Misty had made reservations for a Thai restaurant tonight and felt his stomach whine with hunger. He wondered if the night could snap into day if he found the switch with ‘on’ and ‘off’.

    It seemed that no matter how many times he dreamed about it, undoing the past was not a possibility; ‘what a pity,’ he smiled feebly.

    It would have been so easy to not have seen May, to not have talked to her with the Frisbee sliding around his fingers, to not have noticed her bright blue orbs defiant and strong as he teased her mercilessly, to not have watched her draw closer and closer to his level, to not have loved her ready smile and sweet words meeting his every smirk and curt reply. She had not changed, but he no longer tried to downplay what she had done or tease her about the small impractical things she seemed fond of doing. She was not fragile, and the strength of her words was only matched by the determination of her actions but still- he could not bring himself to say anything mean to her. No one joked at the rose, the red petals glossy with dew and green stem firm and pointed. Maybe at the bee, hovering around the mouth, hoping for entrance even as the flower wilted, pulling back into itself, closed off from the stinger and buzz and small, hopeful eyes.

    She could meet any attack head-on but that was what he wanted to avoid; he didn’t want to hurt her even in the slightest, he adored her too much for that.

    It would have been hard to not have met Misty. The girl who talked cheerfully but with a snap at his harmless ridicule, her mind drifting away from the bench they sat on as she remembered the black haired boy who Drew never understood but May always did; her hands eventually took his eagerly to continue their discussion somewhere else- walking in a park he reminisced.

    It would have been difficult to turn down her offer for dinner, to retract his suggestions on where to go and eat, to pass on the movies they didn’t watch but spent the time in the dark learning how to kiss each other, to deny the stays at her house when she clung to him, her mouth in his ear and his heart in his throat.

    It would have been impossible to chase away her strangling affections, her needy requests, her eyes brimming with want and desire and something that wasn’t love but he found himself wishing it was because that meant she cherished him. And the weakness he felt around her, the way he couldn’t face her but still sought her attention, the way he ignored her calls and messages so when he eventually saw her, it made the reunion that much bittersweet-er, the burning bile rising into his mouth when he left but her kiss clung to his lips and would not wash off…all of it was her.

    It would have been easy to not have fallen in love with someone who didn’t even understand him but it would have been inevitable to fall in love with someone whose heartbeats raced with his, whose skin had touched him where no else had, whose hands pushed away his curled green locks when he lay on her, whose mind and heart were completely and utterly in love with him.

    He closed his eyes and thanked the numbness over his limbs and face for dulling the stabbing pain in his flesh. Memories were like flames, bringing warmth but also the feel of fire just under the skin.

    The phone rang again and he reluctantly reached over, fingers brushing against the speaker button so May’s voice resounded in the small room.

    “Misty still doesn’t know where you are. She’s really worried Drew. Please just call her. Ash and I are going over to her place so I hope we see you there. Please call back Drew. Please answer me.”

    He opened his mouth but either from the lack of experience these days or the sapping of his strength by the tiles, his voice didn’t emerge. He contemplated moving, sitting up so he could let May hear his voice and let her realize that he was dying inside to see and hold and want her again.

    The phone once more minutes later. He ignored it and his lids sank over his irises. The ringtone was as foreign to him as the way Misty’s voice had sounded, the way she had bade his goodbye last time, hoping he would not shut the door of the car and decide to just stay, stay forever, go forever away, away from May. She had chosen the song for his phone but the lyrics were a blur and the notes were jarring and shrill.

    It wasn’t that he hated her. He didn’t mind how she always let her head lie on his chest and how she played with his hair and how she reciprocated his every touch with a intense kiss and how she lengthened their calls, delayed her return to work, waited for him to leave before her, waited for him to turn around so she could feel her tongue on his. But he was sure that her love was for that boy; he wasn’t him, him being the one with her, her being the one on the phone constantly, incessantly whispering for him to come out of the dark.

    ‘Forget me for one day, or I swear…’ Drew groaned but the quiet sound was drowned out by the angry growl of his stomach and the whine of his phone.

    It was ringing again.

    Maybe dying on the kitchen floor would bring news coverage to him. People would see him again and shake their heads, thinking of how he had lost touch with them and linking the coldness of his death to the coldness of his heart.

    It rang again.

    His hand lashed out, gripping the phone over his head and bringing it down on the floor.

    The screen cracked and the shell shattered.

    A voice still came from it, though the panel was black and the battery had popped out and the keys were strewn around him.

    “Drew, it’s May. We’re at Misty’s house. Where are you? You’re coming right? We’re waiting for you. You’re coming right? We’re waiting for you. You’re coming right? She’s waiting for you. You’re coming right? I’m waiting for you…”


    A/N: RJA pwns. Simple as that XD This song is so beautiful and sad that when it popped up, I knew exactly what kind of theme I was going for. Now as you can tell, there is both Contestshipping and Waterflowershipping and even some Advanceshipping and Pokeshipping, but I would categorize this as Waterflower really- Misty and Drew would be such an attractive couple, even though it's crack XD I hope you listened to this masterpiece of music as you read...please leave a review! =D
    Last edited by dandelionheart; 21st September 2008 at 9:35 PM.

  8. #8



    You know you make me feel alright
    (What I Like About You from “Lillix”)


    “Let’s go to the movie already!”

    “Shut up for just a moment alright?”


    “He ain’t listenin’ to yah hun, so just sit tight and watch.”

    “Mind your own business-“

    “Keep quiet just for a minute ok?”

    I groan and hang my head in resignation. Drew, seated beside me, turns to grin at the fat man in front of us. The game has just started to pick up, the chips are equally divided for the time being, and the spectators, other than smart and unlucky me, are silently appreciating the game. If there is anything to appreciate anyways; the game has been nothing but stares and cool flicks of the wrist and cards that don’t add up to anything from the way I see it.

    “Drew please? You’ll end up losing-“

    “How about you hold off saying if I lose after the game is done?”

    “Better listen to your man there, girly,” Drew’s opponent chuckles, flexing his arms and cracking his knuckles. I flinch; I detest anyone pulling, snapping, doing whatever to make their fingers pop, especially in front of a girl. Drew sometimes did it when we had gotten along for an abnormally long period of time to start up the arguing again. I forgive him afterwards always but still- men were so clueless.

    I flip my hair over my shoulder and slouch, blowing away some strands of hair over my eyes. I glance upwards and see one of the younger men, just a few years older than me, give a subtle grin and wink in my direction. Very subtly.
    What a loser. I sigh and inch closer to Drew. I rest my chin on his shoulder, looking at his cards and trying to find some meaning in them. What did the symbols even stand for anyways? Why was I even here? Especially when a guy just next to me was flirting oh so subtly?

    All for money. Men were such pigs. I snort in indignation and stand up, smoothening my skirt over my legs and turning around to survey the bar.

    “Where are you going Dawn?”

    “Nowhere,” I snap, placing my hands akimbo. “I’m just trying to see if there is anything even remotely interesting to do here. You go on and play, and make your big money.”

    “He might make quite the break.” An old guy is watching the game with some sort of intensity in his eyes. His hands are practically shaking and he visibly lurches with excitement every time Drew or the stupid-other-man makes a move. If Drew ever resembles him in the future, I will first laugh in his face and then hit him over the head. Repeatedly. It goes to show that listening to me actually comes in handy- but don’t you know, men were very smart, they don’t need any advice.

    “Don’t you want to stay to see your boy make some money?”

    This comes from the strange guy who is still trying to get my attention.
    Didn’t he get it the first time? I resist the urge to go over and punch the shifty grin on the creeper’s face and instead just pointedly look away.

    “Not really.” I glare at the back of Drew’s head but if he has any care for my feelings, he doesn’t show it. Stupid moron.

    I walk away, my boots sinking into the carpet. This is just a cheap place, ash from cigarettes scattered about and a few men slouching on the counter, no doubt having just puked up all the alcohol and money they had got.

    Men. I sigh, give Drew one last backward glance, and then head towards the adjoining room where I had heard some music playing. Lights are flashing inside and I instinctively know that it’s a club. Might as well burn some time and maybe even get to listen to some music.

    It just better be at least decent, I grumble and I flash my ID card before proceeding inside.

    It was as I hoped; the strobe lights, white spotlight beams swirling around dancing arms and legs, are on full blaze and in just a few moments as I go further in, the music is pounding in time with my ear drums.

    Perfect. It doesn’t take long but a good and catchy song comes on and I’m herded deeper into the mosh pit, feeling the rhythm guide my hips and let my waist turn. My hair is sticking to my neck and forehead and it’s super hot but it’s infinitely better than a card game. Boys are all around me too but none of them are as attractive as Drew. I sigh. Maybe that’s hoping for too much- then again maybe it’s better this way. I definitely don’t want to get hit on again and even if it happens, the guy will soon learn I’m not interested.

    As soon as I think it, it happens. A guy oh so subtly- did any of them have any intelligence?- brushes his hand against my back and moves closer to me.
    He isn’t bad looking but you can see the usual sneaky look in his eyes. Hopefully he wouldn’t be too hard to shake off.

    “What up pretty girl?”

    “Nothing much.” I flash him a happy-and-I’m-not-flirting-just-happy smile and turn to face him so I can at least see where his hands are. “Just waiting for my boyfriend to show up!”

    “Really now?” His face takes on a questioning sort of humor, as if he doubts my words. I guess rushing that in was too fast but I don’t want to take any chances.

    “He buying a drink for you?”

    “I don’t drink.” Another cue dropped. He just shifts his eyebrows and moves closer. Is the guy stupid? Are all guys stupid?! “But he’s due in another minute.”

    “Let me dance with you until then.” He smirks and I have to admit that if
    Drew hadn’t already taken the official position, I would have entertained the guy a bit more seriously. But that’s an ‘if-then’ statement and besides, Drew is much hotter than him.

    “I’m actually gonna leave now.” How did my voice rise above the racket? It was so loud, the noise a scream of electric pop and girls shrieking. “I’m going to look for my boyfriend.”

    “Now now, I’m not dumb.” Really now? “Momentary ban on drinking and the fake boyfriend are in the official rule book. Don’t think I’m just a loser who will leave after one hit.”

    I wish those responses weren’t official. They are true in my case but some girls were just so screwed up that they had to lie their way out of a perv’s arms after flirting just a bit too seriously.

    “Hey, I mean it-“

    That’s when he takes my arm and pulls me forward so that I’m pressed against his chest and can smell the scent of weed and beer. Totally gross and out of my comfort zone. I am severely unpleased by this moment.

    “Let go of me you jerk!” Men just don’t get it- he proceeds to bring his lips a breadth away from mine and then-

    He’s yanked to the floor, landing with an unflattering yelp as he crashes into the unfortunates gyrating behind him.

    “She said she was taken man. Maybe you should listen before you start doing any groping.”

    Drew of course. Smiling an unusual dangerous sort of grin. Idiot.

    “What took you so long?” I drag him away from the dazed creeper, knowing that if I don’t move him away in time, the guy would be crying over more than just his sorry butt.

    “Poor Princess Dawn needs protection all the time I see.”

    “I wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for your stupid game. Did you even win any money?”

    He stops me as the lights turn blue and a slow song sings out of the huge speakers.

    “Where do you want to go for dinner?” His voice is a lazy drawl but I can see that he’s amused, with laughing eyes and tender hands that wrap around my waist.

    “A big and fancy place.”

    “The best then?”

    “Depends on whether you can pay.”

    “Of course I can.”

    I can’t help it- I laugh.

    “You’re an idiot you know.”

    “I didn’t know that. All I know is that I’m rich at the moment and feeling very generous.” The song is tuned out for me by this moment but Drew still is holding me in time, pivoting around slowly.

    “I didn’t mean it.” I giggle- there’s just something too funny about him being sweet; not bad funny but the funny-because-you’re-so-darn-cute way.

    “In exchange though, you have to promise me something.”

    “Of course there’s a catch! Well what is it Drew?”

    He smiles fully and rests his forehead on mine, his green eyes reflecting my blue ones.

    “You aren’t allowed to dance with anyone else but me.”


    A/N: Dialogue! XD I actually used this one here because the song was so catchy and girly I needed to have someone talking throughout...but I hate writing first-person. If it sucked then you're just telling me what I already know...first person sucks XD anyways this one was kind of hard to write even though this couple came naturally to me; I kind of cheated because I was "editing" a lot after the song was done 10 times over XD but still, it was cute to think of something like this although seriously, why would anyone go to a club? So dangerous >.< and dancing is stupid too haha =D anyways please review!

  9. #9



    If you give me your hand, I will help you hold on
    (Last Night from “Skillet”)


    There was a pain in her chest that pulled her heart downwards so that the heat burned her stomach but her lungs were being coughed up and her throat felt bile reach up and she wanted to scream but what if all that blood and vomit gushed out?

    There was something strange in the way she was dying; it felt so painful but she could see that she was whole, not torn on the outside, just dying from an illusion buried in her organs. But it hurt so much that she let out a whimper and closed her eyes, trying not to cry. If she did, it would show that she had let go of any show of strength she had. And she was still waiting for something, anything to just embrace her and peel away her torment, anyone who would be brave enough to just let her know she wasn’t alone…


    It was water.

    Gallons of water.

    It seemed as if she was a container filled to the brim and her skin was actually only an inch thick and her mouth, now pried open, was the lid.

    And then she was empty.

    Her lips were still blue and her eyes were still closed and her hands were still cold but she was breathing slowly and her lips twitched.

    He let his hold on her slacken and ignored the persons hustling around him, keeping his eyes on her only.


    When she woke up, she saw no light and then she panicked. She wanted Heaven at least, a place warm and full of light so she would know that there was something she could live on forever in. And then she turned slightly to the right and saw the curve of the moon beyond the rustling curtain and the thin beams on light over the blankets on her. She let out a trembling breath and turned to face her left and she nearly jolted up in surprise because he was sleeping, his head just by her side, his hand entwined in hers. Feeling crept back into her limbs and she was suddenly conscious of her hand in his, his breath somehow touching her skin though the robe she wore and the covers on her.

    Her right hand lifted and with some trouble, found its way to his hair where she brushed away the brown, messy strands on his brow. She mouthed a thank you and tried to remember everything after she had sank deeper into the water, trying to remember his face as he came, brave enough to just let her know she wasn’t alone…


    In the morning when he awoke, she had come to and though she moved unsure of herself and her motions were slow and weighted, she turned to smile softly at him.

    He quickly moved his head away from her side and blushed, apologizing and then immediately asking her if she was alright and needed anything at all.

    She asked him if he could open the cup of peaches on her tray and he obliged, ignoring her silent protests when he took the spoon and offered her a bite without meeting her eyes.


    She had swum too far and too deep and too fast into the water so when the jets suddenly turned on, she opened her mouth and found her limbs crushed in the pounding of inner waves. The pain was crippling and she couldn’t make a noise as she fought to swim, to live somehow, some way. Regret gnawed at her arms that flailed uselessly and fright pulled on her legs that kicked uselessly and then she found her heart sinking…


    He didn’t want to realize that she was under stress and that she wasn’t healthy and that she needed help. He thought, for an egotistical and arrogant second, that his company was enough. And so when he glanced over into the pool, wondering why the turbines were so loud and why the water was churning into foam and why people were screaming at the edge, he felt like dying right that second.


    She found him days before, waiting in the lounge for a formal introduction and then it was there that they realized that they were waiting for familiar company. What they had been doing for so long, what troubles they were facing, all of it surfaced quietly and delicately as they talked, walking at the same pace and managing to find the special teasing smile they had perfected years before when they had seen each other last.

    Maybe that was why it came back to her even stronger at that moment; the work she had to do, the problems she was drowning under, the way that her swimming faltered more and more each day-

    Maybe that was why he seemed eager every passing day to find some time to wander around with her, a perfect distraction in her ugly reality. It didn’t even matter after a while what she was suffering under and suffering for; but that was only a while, and dreams shatter upon waking.

    So when she fought down tears because she wanted to just fly away and she chased away doubts that the demonstration of the pool system would start soon, she decided she would swim and swim and swim.


    He apologized several times over and only shut up with a shocked gasp that morphed into a hapless grin when she slapped him and told him that she would kick him too if he tried saying sorry again.


    She came back an hour later and told him that she didn’t realize how hard she had slapped him until she noticed the swelling of his cheek.

    He asked if he could do something to make it even and when she agreed, puzzled face with apprehensive gaze, he asked her if they could go to dinner together and then tried to hide his embarrassment when she stared and then suddenly aware, laughed awkwardly a small yes.


    He wouldn’t have done it at all if he hadn’t seen her watching the stars with a sort of longing in her eyes.

    She belonged to the sea and she was as light as sea spray, as forceful as the crests, and determined as the swells and crashes of every wave. But she seemed at home in the night there, sitting on the bench and her chin tilted so she had eyes only for the sky, black and pierced several times over in white.

    She wasn’t weak. She could be unsure sometimes and reckless and stupid and crazy and certainly strange but she was so strong that he felt a lack of steadiness near her. So he didn’t have to do it.

    He didn’t need to do it.

    But he wanted to and when she didn’t make any sign of disapproval, he let himself smile.

    He took her hand and kept it in his as he walked her home, their arms brushing against each other’s, not bothering to say anything as the night passed on.


    A/N: Skillet is just the best; Pokemon and serious fics don't really match so I wanted another one like "You know you make me feel alright" but because it was Skillet I had to make an exception XD Anyways so this one probably won't make sense to people unless you pay attention to the details and also because dialogue and names would have destroyed the type of form I was going it's Egoshipping *gives huge cookie to anyone who guessed it* and I actually decided on it after deciding not to do Altoshipping :P but anyways if anyone is unclear on the story itself, it's that Misty nearly drowned but Gary jumped in after her and then helped her recuperate =D aww, this couple is so pretty too lol! anyways please review! =)

  10. #10



    Space between, there is such divide
    (Goodnight Gravity from “Falling Up”)


    The ship seemed to cut right through the water, parting the liquid without a sound, creating the smallest of ripples to touch and wave the roundness of the moon on the ocean, glinting brightly in the darkness. He couldn’t see her yet but he could already see her on the boardwalk, eyes bright and her large smile filling up all corners of night with a light all her own.

    It had been four years; he had counted it yesterday, taking some time as he was never good with dates and less with remembering the start of his journeys. He had called her with the news and felt her enthusiasm through the speaker, bursting with so much anticipation and hope.

    It hadn’t seemed so long ago that he had started on what she had termed the second leg, but it seemed forever that he had seen her. He had seen her in Sinnoh with Dawn but it was during a contest and he had secretly resented that he hadn’t been able to spend time with her, talking one-on-one, sharing stories and jokes. He still recalled how her hand felt in his when they said farewell; the sky was painted sunset and she was tinted in gold but he felt as if night had already stolen away all traces of day and the memories of her with him.

    He laughed at himself hours later at wondering if she would have offered to travel with them, mainly with Dawn. It didn’t seem that unlikely looking back; her eagerness was not limited to herself, it was infectious and sometimes when he didn’t want to admit he was even hungrier and more exhausted than she on those long days long ago, her hopeful grin gave him just enough energy to carry on. There were times when they found themselves staring the other down and pushing the other aside and ignoring every word or attempt to reconcile. Brock and Max had teased them that they were acting like children but he, not seeing that it would only make the memories sweeter, yelled in protest and only grew angrier at her in turn.

    He wasn’t sure why it was just her; maybe it was simply that she was a girl and a girl he had never really looked at before. He had been around several now and they were still as troubling as before but there was something unique in the way she giggled and cheered and trained and exerted herself for not only herself, but the team.

    Misty had been with him for years and for so long he was sure he was friends, for a time certain they were like siblings, and for lingering moments here and there, found his heart beating fast because they were acting like- and then he dismissed it.

    She was different. Misty had been the icebreaker and Dawn most certainly the companion he was the most easy-going with since girls were no longer strange territory (Brock always begged to differ here). But her. She was altogether something else, as into fashion and style as Dawn but never dominated by them, as outgoing and bold as Misty but never as hot-tempered…she was simply someone who was different in every way. He enjoyed teaching her and then with some reluctance, watching her as she developed her skills on her own, still looking to him for experience and guidance time to time. He loved watching her attempts to eat but appreciated her more when they had eating contests. And every time someone needed a laugh, he would simply tell him or her how she would narrate her travels, find the “luckiest” tokens in the forest, grow terrified at the sign of heavy thunderstorms.

    But what was it that had made him realize days later, when Max and her left, that he had not given her a proper send-off? They had been quite sincere in their “good-lucks” and “best wishes” but the sinking in his chest and the pounding of blood in his ears and the itch behind his eyes all came so much later. Why was it delayed he wondered, lying awake in bed, pillow and blankets suddenly suffocating.

    Misty had left with Brock the first time and Ash had to break down to let himself truly cope. Dawn’s departure moistened his eyes, only slightly he insisted to Brock, because she looked so happy to have reached what she wanted that she had hugged him tightly and thanked him in a low voice. But her? What about her?

    The ship drew closer and with it her; he blinked and lowered his head, understanding that this reunion would be clouded by something else. There was something definite and solid, a barrier almost, preventing him from truly expressing himself around her. There had been times when he had burst out in anger or impatience or let the softness from seeing her cry or crumple in frustration take over. But those had been rare and he never let her see how he was swallowing down his heart when she was in danger, how he had secretly been crushed when she lost to Dawn the first time around, how he felt with a pang of unknown emotion an emptiness realizing he would not hear her excited laugh for some time. What was it with Misty and Dawn that he could let himself live and let live and with her, it was harder?

    As the horn sounded, so did the sun, breaking over the horizon in a crash of wave and squawk of gull. He could see her on deck, outlined by red and the light flooding over the ink of the sky. Night was over and she had come.
    She was waving both arms and her hair was flying around her face and her voice was muted but her mouth never closed. He watched her motionless for a few seconds before it hit him and he ran toward the ramp, light-headed.
    Maybe the reason why he had not said a proper goodbye, maybe why he hadn’t really felt the pain separating from her there and then was because it wasn’t real. Misty and Dawn were there of course, visiting him often and a dedicated part of his life. But she had never truly gone away, so she had no closure and friendly visits to fall back on.

    It was stupid for him to think so as he jogged up to her, face flushed and out of breath, but he couldn’t help but think that there was more for them to do and see and live through. Maybe it wasn’t stupid though, his heart finding that ditch in his throat as she appeared, resplendent in fresh sunlight. Maybe he was just stupid overall and he would need to do what he needed to have done years ago.

    And when she hopped down the narrow walk and crashed into him, giddy with happiness and arms strangling him as she laughed loudly and a triumphant “Ash!” filling his ears, he said, “Welcome back May,” and let his true smile shine out.


    A/N: So I was thinking of a good couple for this song and then looked at the list and realized, hey what about my OTP? XD So it didn't take long at all to find out a story and when I did, syncing it with the song and the relationship was super easy. I hope I did well on this because I had to extend Ash's personality in context of the canon and hoped to make him more mature =X because we all know how much easier Pokemon would be if he just grew up! lol anyways leave a review please, I always want to hear from you readers! I know someone is reading this because I can see the view counter so just write me something! XD
    Last edited by dandelionheart; 16th October 2008 at 1:16 AM.

  11. #11



    That I will pick you up like you for I
    (The Adventure from “Angels and Airwaves”)


    They were in the air, falling into clouds and drinking sky, sunlight their wings and their smiles the world’s soul.

    She was borne aloft by feathers, white and twinkling with dew, and his steady silver ones pounded beside her and they soared over the earth, the birds following them as they swooped and spiraled and churned the clouds into lather, not minding the spray of water that drenched them as they dove into the thickest billows below.

    Their hands somehow reached and found each other; she turned with a triumphant laugh and her fingers squeezed his so he had to chuckle, pulling her closer to him so they fell momentarily, caught in each other’s arms and wings. But then they had disentangled themselves and they were dancing together, feeling every stroke of wind and the beat of their hearts etch out before them as she spun gracefully and he moved like liquid, free and flowing.

    Their hands broke apart and she let herself dive down headfirst, eyes closed and wings drawn so she was a burning, shooting star, golden white that dulled the sun and flashed before him like a signal. He took after her, arms parallel and eyes focused, his wings narrow and they plummeted to the green vastness from all horizons and then suddenly she was in his arms and her eyes were open as she embraced him, his concentration breaking to greet her with a tender smile.


    “But I worked my hardest on it! You said that you would help me anyways so there you go, you helped.”

    “I refuse to be credited in this…this…this-”


    “That’s not enough for it. It’s an immortal epic for the walls of fame to treasure.”

    “Gary! Stop joking!”

    “Please, just take out references to me-”

    “Genius, there are none! You’re just have a Freudian complex, you’re afraid of me writing about another guy so you’re thinking it’s actually just you-”

    “Freud has nothing to do with it. And it is clearly me. Anyone who reads it will associate you with me and that would be just perfect now wouldn’t it?”

    “My professor just expects quality work so just spit it out that you hate it so I can go rewrite it ok?”

    “Whoa there, come on now, stop-”

    He was falling and the wings he wore were dissolving into the finest of powders but the pain was in his eyes as he saw her ascend, unable to hear his calls. There was no way he could reach and find her in the abyss above, a maelstrom of white and flashing light as she fixed her eyes upon the zenith he had fallen from. He choked out her name and his back arched, golden skin melting away and his black hair shredded into figments of feather as he became a cloud, drifting closer and closer to the earth as mist…

    “What the hell is this?!”

    “Shut up and read.”

    “I just did. And I’m wishing I didn’t.”

    “Look, tell me what’s wrong.”

    “I much prefer your other one over this…this- why are these all angel-themed?”

    “It’s about relationships ok?! Tell me what I need to fix because apparently you’re so smart at literature, you even know how to develop a romance.”

    “Better than you anyways.”

    “Gary you’re such a-”

    “You’re leaving again? What is it with you?”

    “Be quiet and let me write something worthy for you.”

    “Fine, but I doubt it! You need to work harder, think of something better! Can you hear me? You can write better than this! And don’t put Ash as the hero in your new one!”

    She hates him a lot you know. But he doesn’t hate her. He sends her chocolate in first block and he will bring carnations every day if he has the time. He will try his best not to roll his eyes at the weepy romances they watch and he will make some time for her shows so that she doesn’t die from watching repeated football games. He’s intelligent in the way no one else is because he knows he’s better and he acts like he is better but he will never let her feel any less so she’s always encouraged to keep going until she’s standing with him on his pedestal.


    Not. Definitely not. He’ll roll his eyes after the movie, the carnations are days old, the chocolate is from the girls he’s continuously turned down, he takes the TiVo and makes sure his games are recorded and he’ll watch them on his cell when her eyes are glued to the screen. He doesn’t want to be modest, he’s quiet and courteous but he doesn’t know that his jokes fall flat, his poetry sucks, he worries too much when he should be relaxing, he says the meanest of remarks to her, he’s a jerk with a beautiful face and a heart way too strange for her tastes.

    True that. Amen.

    At the same time, she has a high threshold. A high tolerance for annoying boys and their odd ways of trying to appear tough when she only wants him to be sensitive so she knows he cares. Sometimes she wants to see him try because he wants to, not because he needs to and he thinks everything can be done by him anyways. She’ll be waiting for those old chocolates and flowers anyways because she knows that the moment he sees them, her face is superimposed and he’s hiding a blush and a secret hope she’ll hug him when he holds them out- she’s almost positive that’s how it plays out.

    But he’s an idiot and he’ll make her crazy and to the world he’s the calm, collected, cool, suave person that no one wants to miss out on but always does. Calm before the storm more like, collected bag of sarcasm actually, cool as an iceberg strictly speaking, suave- well that’s what he’ll always be. And she’ll hate him so much her hair gets frizzy and her clothes get wet and her shoes get dirty and her face gets grimy- all in the rain because he forgot his assignment and is trying to run to meet her as she’s protecting it with her small umbrella.

    That’s hardly all of it. She cleans his clothes and makes his dinner and remembers his appointments and calls up on him when he’s having a bad day and makes him soup when he’s sick, and she’ll ignore the fact she has exams the next day to help him with his and she’ll cry every time he forgets it’s some special day, not to have him apologize but to make him look at her and realize she wanted something.

    Wow, the things she does. The bad-word-I-can’t-spell-out he does. And why does she slave away?


    “What why?”

    “Why does she slave away for that guy?”

    “What guy? What are you talking about?”

    “Your essay. What? I just wanted to read it so I stopped by-”

    “You weren’t allowed to!”

    “Says who?”

    “Says the author. But hell, who cares? What, you hated it the most or something?”

    “No I-”

    “Geez why did you have to read it?”

    “I actually thought-”

    “Please just spit it out.”

    “I’m trying to say it!”

    “So you hated it right? I knew-”

    “There! Now listen-”

    “We’re in public Gary!”


    “You can’t just kiss me like that!”

    “I think I just did. Anyways I thought it was great. What? Come on, say something to that…”

    “About time.”

    “So why?”

    “Why what?”

    “Why does she stay with him?”


    “The girl. Why does she stay with that guy when he isn’t even that great of a person?”

    “Are-are you…did you even understand-”


    “You’re an idiot.”

    “What?! Why?!”

    “No, that’s just it, you’re an idiot.”

    “After I said your story was great-”

    “Our story.”


    “It’s ours. She’s me and you’s he. Happy?”

    “Wait then-”

    “I’m surprised you liked it after all.”

    “You mean to say…”

    “Gary just say it.”

    “You don’t even know why you’re staying with me? What?! Why are you laughing? What, I don’t get this…”

    “You aren’t supposed to! If you did, I would have left a long time ago. Oh my god Gary, oh wow.”

    “You ‘re attracting stares.”

    “Shut up idiot. I’m laughing at you for the first time, let me enjoy it.”

    “I’m not really like that right?”


    “Dawn…Dawn, seriously, am I really like that?”

    “What’s that?”


    “Let’s go darling, we need to celebrate this occasion!”

    Why? It’s obvious why. He loves her too much and he just likes tormenting her because she needs to chill and he needs to motivate her lazy butt and he admits to whenever he lies and cries so she can always trust him and he drives her everywhere and he spoils her and he reads her his poetry because she still likes it and he is so sweet to pretend that he forgot the dates when he was actually waiting for an end-of-the-day surprise and he’ll never let her fail her exams because he’s tutored her days before and he will wrap her in his sweatshirt when she stands in the rain and he will kiss her goodnight on the head and let her good-luck-token’s lullaby play every night and he simply won’t leave her alone, waiting for her to call but keeping her on the line for hours and-.

    In short. She can’t do without him. He’s a stuck up jerk who doesn’t know how to act. But she still loves him until it hurts.

    Because he’s worth every damn minute of her time.


    A/N: This one just came to me as I was writing; the song is so terrifically gorgeous that I had some trouble picking a couple (I wanted to do Advanceshipping again but Cavaliershipping, is so pretty that I chose it instead =D) but I hope it isn't too hard to follow, it was hard to keep the dialogue going without any description but hopefully I pulled it off XD This is my longest too I think, due to the short and punchy dialogue =3 Anyways please review!

    P.S. Dawn received a 100 on her paper =D

  12. #12



    Love too impossible and true
    (Foreverandever Etc... from “David Crowder Band”)


    There was love in the air and he could smell it.

    It smelled like popsicles in the summer and soup on the coldest of days and an umbrella in a thunderstorm and water when the sun scorched the earth and dripping wax on candles in a cool night and grass just after it had rained.

    The air was crisp and fresh and it flooded past him as he threw his hands up in the air and let the smile burst out of him as he dove towards her and grabbed her hand and drew her close so he could proclaim his faithful pledge of everlasting, undying love-

    Then a hand pinched the tip of his ear and pulled its hardest so he had to release her hand and straightened with a jerk, eyes tearing up and limbs twitching in pain with his mouth forming words of mercy to the assailant dragging him away.


    “Alright, let’s keep moving.” Misty did nothing to hide her grimace as she led forcefully a silently protesting Brock from the puzzled girl watching curiously. “Seriously, you should have at least learned by now not to do that to girls.”

    “Misty, it hurts, please-” he managed to choke out.

    She released him with a disgruntled sigh and he collapsed gratefully on the ground, his ear burning and face flushed.

    “Don’t whine about it, come on now. If you have to do it then do it where I can’t see you!”

    He didn’t say anything but just pouted, glaring up from his dark, narrow eyes, his hand rubbing gently his sore and very pink ear. The moon’s lovely glow over the marketplace was not having any effect on her, her scowl ugly and frightening.

    “Admit it! It’s a fetish. You have something for girls and every time you see one, you just have to run over and profess your sudden onset of love.”

    “I’ve never done that with you and you’re a girl,” he spoke up pointedly.

    “As if I haven’t noticed!” She snapped, her usually bright green eyes darkening and a furious shadow growing over her pale face. “I mean, geez, I’m not asking for attention but it kind of hurts my self-esteem that no one is fawning over me while you go on and hit on anything that even remotely resembles a female.”

    “They’re always attractive though…”

    “Shut up or I’ll yank your ear again.”

    He quickly obliged, standing up and following her as she walked quickly and stiffly towards the exit gate, a small bag swinging on her thin arm. He was planning to apologize and explain why exactly- the girl’s grey eyes had looked so gentle and violet hair had looked so luscious that it had been hard to resist- but it was probably for his own benefit than he not utter a word. She had already been in somewhat of an off-mood in the morning, unable to eat her cereal without milk, unable to eat her marmalade without any bread and then at lunch when everyone was too busy to help her around and now after dinner when she had to rush to get some spices- needless to say, her shouting had been painfully squeezed into his ringing ears all day.

    It hadn’t been intentional, he recited in his head, walking some distance behind her, noticing that the back of her neck was still red and her knuckles were still a bit white. All the telltale signs were there but he had been expecting the small forgiving nod- it had been a few minutes and she had made no sign of showing that she had forgotten the incident. They were frequent but always brief and he could count on her to even sometimes give him a knowing wink or roll of the eyes for good measure. Still, there was something more pressing on her mind and he pondered for a moment, taking care not to lose sight of her in the bustling crowd.

    It wasn’t as if she had forgotten how frustrating the experience was- unlike Ash nowadays, Brock always made time to go over and visit Misty, the few days he had originally set aside growing into weeks until it took a number of phone calls from the family to remind him that there was deadly chaos in need of fixing. There was always something to do in his defense- training and taking care of chores, doing tours and some special shows, finding some time to talk to the visitors, arrange appointments. That was what Misty had to do at least. He found early on that any direct offer of help was turned down swiftly and so he took to subtly helping behind the scenes and in her hassled state, she barely noticed. The only times she spent with him without once yelling out in frustration or worry was the shopping trips when he could treat her to ice cream and they could splurge on sweets and steal free samples.

    Maybe that was why she was upset, he realized and then promptly dismissed the idea; that was too easy of an answer. It was probably some complicated girl thing he decided at last, no longer intent on keeping quiet.

    “Ehm, Misty?”

    There was no response and he swallowed nervously.


    “Just because someone doesn’t respond doesn’t mean they didn’t hear you. I mean we are inches apart.”

    He would have liked to point out the flaw in her argument but they were at a traffic signal and with cars speeding by, he didn’t want to take any chances.

    “Sorry. I was just hoping I could tell you I’m sorry. I didn’t know you would be going through something.”

    “Going through what?” She turned to face him and he nearly lost his bravado at the sight of her glower.

    “Uh, well, I mean…well you know what I mean. I mean, that well, it happens and yeah, I guess it makes sense now, yeah well, I get it, so sorry I forgot the time, yeah that’s it, I know it must be- well I don’t know but it’s painful I’m guessing. Yeah,” he finished lamely as she stared blankly back at him.

    “Come again?”

    It couldn’t be that, she would certainly have understood what he was trying to say if it was…that. He tried again, keeping up with her brisk pace.

    “I mean I must have been getting on your nerves and you were already kind of moody-”

    He cursed at himself, expecting a forceful blow to the head or even a kick to the shins but she only stayed quiet, as if expecting him to continue.

    “So yeah, I’ll try and remember now, month from now right? Won’t forget it again-”

    “Brock, what the hell are you trying to say?” She finally cried out in exasperation, eyes flashing and hands on her hips.

    The street was empty aside from the couple walking by and he paled. Violence in front of seniors was not a possibility he assured himself and he took a breath.

    “I mean I forgot you might be on-”

    “On what?” She had taken on an expression of complete bewilderment and he finally blurted it out.

    “It’s PMS right?”

    What followed was the most awkward silence he had ever known coupled with the fact that Misty’s silent gasp had taken him by surprise- it wasn’t that after all?


    “Why else would you be upset?”

    Her hand struck out and grabbed his ear once again.

    “Idiot! I was upset for one reason! You forgot my birthday!”

    Her hold on him didn’t last for more than a couple seconds but he could feel the pain spread and he opened his mouth but no sound came out. Her face was hidden in the dark but a flash of moonlight exposed the blush on her face.

    “I did?” He laughed nervously as she gazed at him coolly. “Well I guess I did!”

    He chuckled again and then regretted it; he shook his head and exhaled.

    “Sorry Misty. I’m really sorry, I would never do it on purpose but-”

    “Ah whatever, I’m fine,” she shrugged and he blinked. She was just starting to walk again when he grabbed her arm.

    “What- no you aren’t! You’re turning 18! Of course you’re upset, you’re probably so angry that you’re holding it in and it’s going to explode and I’m going to wake up in the middle of the night with you standing over me with a knife in your hand!”


    “Spit it out no, just grab my ear and twist it. The right one again if you want! Anything, I deserve it.”

    “Ok, that’s not neces-“

    “Anything is fine, I forgot! I mean it, I should never have forgotten- tomorrow! I’ll go tomorrow and get you a big present and then you can see that I didn’t mean to forget at all I really didn’t want to, you deserved something special-”

    “That’s it.”


    The air was crisp and fresh and it flooded past him as he threw his hands up in the air and let the anxiety burst out of him as he dove towards her and grabbed her hand and drew her close so he could give his fervent apology for forgetting her birthday-

    Then a hand pinched the tip of his ear and pulled its hardest so he had to release her hand and straightened with a jerk, eyes tearing up and limbs twitching in pain with his mouth forming words of mercy to the girl tugging at him with full force.

    Strangely, her grip softened and she started to laugh and soon he found himself slouching, her arm around his shoulders, her loud laughs echoing around them. He attempted a smile and saw her return it as she brushed away tears from her eyes. The couple glanced at them and stared, no doubt guessing the girl was in some form intoxicated. He held in his amusement before joining her, leaning against her for support.

    There was love in the air and he could smell it.

    It smelled like popsicles in the summer and soup on the coldest of days and an umbrella in a thunderstorm and water when the sun scorched the earth and dripping wax on candles in a cool night and grass just after it had rained.
    But it smelled most like the laughs from a certain girl with crimson for hair and anger who might have been pretending to still hold a grudge as they walked into the house but he could see that she was touched and was very happy and she didn’t make any move to convince him otherwise when he ruffled her hair and affectionately bid her goodnight.


    A/N: PMS is so overdone -_____-;; but it popped into my head as I was typing so I thought to put it in seeing as I was already under a time crunch...but anyways I personally like this one a lot. XD It is really so easy to write this couple, they have a sort of appeal to them even though I don't ship them really; still, I hope I got to show the way people see them interact and also I was able to take on the mystery of the ear-pulling XD That is the one question the producers will have to answer, why does she take it as her responsiblity to chastise Brock? But oh well, I hope you enjoyed (and listened to the song, since it's gorgeous ^.~) and leave a review! =D

  13. #13



    Not going back, not going back there
    (Not Gonna Get Us from “t.A.T.u.”)


    There was nothing but black on the road and on the sky pressing in on them as he pushed harder on the accelerator. Her mouth was whispering by his ear and he turned with a small grin, catching a glimpse of her flushed face as another car sped by. She spun the volume dial on his radio so music roared around them and echoed into the night.

    She was no longer pressed to the other side, watching him critically with a longing gleam in her eye. He had to control his urge to pull her beside him because he knew she would finally lean against him and poke his side in just a few minutes. He couldn’t help but do it every night; he knew she would already be at the window, her heart pounding and lips parted, jumping at the slightest noise because at any moment her mother or worse, father, could step in and see the window open, chilly fall air leaking in, and her slight silhouette shivering in fear.

    But then his car would silently glide by and he would emerge minutes later, breathing hard and his eyes sharp so when she jumped off the tree bough closest to the ground, he would catch her and kiss her before hurrying her away to the sports car a few blocks away. She’d tease him after she had finished sulking over the possible punishment they both would have endured that he was always so eager to get her out of the house; he’d nip her ear in response.

    Once they were out and on the road with nothing but the steering wheel guiding them and the road straight and smooth, he could relax and play with her hair, chocolate in the darkness. Her blue eyes shone brighter in the moonlight and her creamy skin only felt softer. Her voice was just the same though, light and airy, with a spicy laugh she kept for him, one that he previously doubted she had.

    If someone had told him that she would be in his car almost every midnight, laughing loudly and kissing his cheek repeatedly, ignoring every traffic law he breached without a second thought, he would have been stunned into silence. She was just too polite and gentle in the day, chastising him whenever he cursed or suggested going to a club. She would never agree to watch an R-rated movie no matter how much he pleaded, she would never let up in a fight when he teased her about her strict self-control, she simply was the good girl that he was responsible for going after and torturing.

    Even her insults were mild-mannered, trying to find the humor in bright green hair or his penchant for identifying roses. It was obvious that she didn’t hate him though she argued incessantly- she took delight in tickling him, cooking him meals though he never really enjoyed them, calling him up to wish him good luck. But it was him who followed her around, flirted outrageously, kissed her goodnight with her father glowering just feet away, made her laugh at the crudest jokes, helped her miss her assignments and forget curfew as they swam in the community pool, she still shy but an undeniable blush of happiness on her face.

    So he never thought that she would be expecting him to come and invite her on night joy rides, letting the gas tank empty and the speakers in his car strain so that he could her fully laugh and even kiss him right. It only took minutes for her quiet hissing and reprimanding to cease and then she was finding the soft parts around his abdomen with her fingertips, her lips brushing over his jaw.

    He didn’t want to ask her why it was the night; after they had tumbled out of the car at whatever stop, him making sure it was always a new one, she would dance to her own song or simply sink back into him, eyes glittering and lips pursed. If they stopped at a store, she would still never consent to drinking or smoking but grabbed supplies for sandwiches so they could eat on the grass under the wide sky. Sometimes she wasn’t hungry and she found a magazine instead, laying on her stomach on the empty sidewalk when he finally walked out with his cigarettes.

    He had seen her drink before; she had a low threshold and she was attracting the stares of other guys from her excited giggles and he made sure to never let her near alcohol again. He had made her smoke once and she had coughed the stick out before crushing it under her flats so he knew instantly he’d waste money by letting her near one again. He had dared her into trying weed and he realized she would be too susceptible to any man if he wasn’t careful so he never let her do so again. She was a doll, small and fierce, but still a doll with a small, cute face and curvy, slim body that he was protecting every time he led her outside.

    In the day, it felt as if she was protecting him, his torn clothes and calloused hands and his large, though few, piercings covered by her pressed and clean attire. At school, he could see the disapproval in the other girls’ eyes, and the looks were all the same but she still greeted him with a cheery smile and even let him kiss her in the busy hallways because she could taste and share his loneliness. But the night was his territory and he made sure to take her out where she didn’t need to conform or worry about the adults who whispered or the teenagers who mocked. It was his fault, he reminded himself, when they fought and she stalked away, tears in her eyes. Seeing her let herself go free was what he really wanted, and he didn’t mind that she also paid him closer, more personal attention in the car, air whistling through both of them.

    The car braked suddenly, and they lurched forward, her hands clutching his shoulder tightly. She shrieked when the car settled to a stop and shoved him aside, clambering out of the car. He was laughing, arms across his stomach as he made his way to her side, not apologizing but still teasing, his arms now wrapping around hers. She was calling him names and her eyes were flashing but she didn’t push him away and he knew that she was secretly exhilarated and in a minute or so, she would return his kiss with equal force and fervor.

    Also, in just three minutes another car would pull up and a man he hated and she feared would pry them apart and he would be screaming curses at him as he drove her away. In two days, he would see her again but her terrified eyes refused to meet his angry ones. In a week, he would go by their house again and see the mother there standing by the window, refusing to back down as well.

    In a month she would be back in his car, her small bags packed away and her eyes wide as they moved at a dangerous speed down the local streets. But in just a few moments she would let out a small laugh and then she would be kissing him wildly and thanking him and holding his hand as he silently promised her to keep the night alive and forever for her.


    Contestshipping is probably my least favorite het pairing in all of Pokemon :/ seriously, I see only the magic of puberty creating sexual tension and that is it XD funny how I was a shipper before I converted and always imagined the pairing to translate into this for real life XD As you can probably tell by now, I have put the focus more on reality so Pokemon is still there universe-wise but I hardly mention just to make things simpler x) Anyways the ending was a last minute idea so hopefully it still flows; if you liked leave a review =D and even if you didn't, please tell me why =) thanks for reading!

  14. #14



    Can't you hear my heart is calling?
    (In the Heat of the Night from “E-Rotic”)


    May was four years old when she first met Gary Oak. It was a memory she couldn’t recall much of, seeing as how her baby brother needed her attention. It was a very important task and so after her father had introduced him to her, she had promptly run off to her mother, making sure Max, curled into downy blankets and with his thumb in his small mouth, was safe.

    Looking back on it now, she realized that maybe if she had relented and gone to talk with Gary like her parents quietly and repeatedly asked her to in the evening, things might have turned out quite differently between them.


    Gary was twenty-three when he saw May for the last time, in a café, waiting for a call from a girlfriend who was no longer interested but still wanted to keep contact.

    She was fidgeting with the hem of her skirt and her eyes and fingers moved rapidly as they read and wrote text messages to someone obviously important. She was biting her lip and a blush had spread across her face and for a few moments he forgot that his cell was vibrating on the table.

    He picked it up but didn’t flip it open and just paused, glancing back at May, wondering if he should go over and ask her if she was alright. It was a suicidal thought because he immediately felt his stomach cramp with guilt and he grinded his teeth, cursing himself. He slipped the phone into his pocket and sighing, pushed in his chair before walking out.

    There was no moon or any stars that night, only clouds- thick, grey swabs that did little to ease the pain inside of him and the remorse blinding his already hooded eyes.


    May was ten when she met Gary again, this time before she had started her journey on bike to Hoenn, not at all excited but very anxious. Her father had called her to his office the night before, where he had set up a tele-communicator screen for temporary purposes. Professor Oak had greeted her and wished her good luck before Gary came onscreen, a confident smile on his face hiding his doubt. May didn’t blame him- she suspected that both men had probably urged Gary to greet her despite him not knowing her well at all; nevertheless, he gave her a few tips and grinned reassuringly so the ache in her chest died down somewhat.

    It was only when she was in bed wondering about tomorrow that she realized she had not said anything back, not even a ‘thank you.’


    Gary was nineteen when he broke up with May. For the first time in his life, he had done it face to face, his heart burning and his mouth dry, palms sweaty and eyes unable to meet hers.

    She didn’t said a word and he was vaguely reminded years ago when he had talked to her for the first time via television and she had merely smiled weakly in reply to his advice. But this was different- she had a blank expression on her young face and then she nodded and merely turned away.

    He had resisted the urge to snap her out of that melancholy trance by grabbing her and never letting go, smelling the scent of her hair and feeling the softness of her arms, but he resisted. He didn’t want her back, he didn’t need her back, there was nothing to be done.

    For hours later, until the sun finally peeked up from the flat horizon, he lay on his bed refusing to acknowledge the fact that he made a mistake that was burning his heart with every beat.

    May was sixteen when Gary asked her out, nonchalant smile and arm looped
    through hers making her heart beat irregularly fast. She didn’t have time to say a yes because she already had brought her face to his and kissed his cheek in answer. She suddenly felt warm despite the chilly twilight breeze and pressed herself closer to him.

    She didn’t regret a single minute that followed even though sometimes there were fights she could only stop by wrapping herself in her arms and crying and the times when they couldn’t meet each other did more good than they liked to admit. She didn’t mind that he didn’t understand her most of the time because he tried to, though failed, and she didn’t mind that he made perfect sense to her despite his actions and words she couldn’t quite comprehend. She heard that he had matured over the years but she knew that boys couldn’t mature from firsthand incidents. He had changed his outlook on the world, he hadn’t grown more experienced; he was calmer, more collected, but she could see it was only because he regretted recklessness and rash decisions.

    She sometimes wondered if she was something he ever lay awake at night pondering over, something he had taken by chance. He was one for stepping carefully wherever he went, and she dove right in, ready to live, trying to lead him but he’d snatch his hand away and refuse any help.


    Gary was eighteen when he worked up the courage to ask May, her face bright in the darkness, if she would go to the movies that weekend. He would never forget how she kissed his cheek and how he hid his embarrassment and how she slept through the second half of the movie because she was so tired and he decided to rest his head against hers to rest, too.

    He would also never forget how much he tried to break away from his shell and take her hand every time she offered it. He admitted several times that though he was wrong in trying to prove himself by himself, not understanding her intentions or her thoughts, she was at fault, too.

    One couldn’t go through life that way, living and then letting, all promises and commitments and short-term happiness and the c'est la vie attitude.

    That was what he thought but he spent many a moment wanting to think otherwise, wanting to walk beside her and see through her eyes but he couldn’t. Maybe not because he had never wanted to then but because he had never needed to before.


    May was seventeen when she heard the words come out of his mouth and her world stopped rotating around the sun. A black hole emerged and it opened its mouth and her heart burst out of her chest and entered it.

    She walked away, wishing and hoping and praying he would let go of it so it would settle back into her chest but the pain tightened and the distance grew tauter.

    She finally turned around and broke down, tears streaming down her face and her frail voice whispering his name over and over again. He didn’t come back to help her up.

    He had run away and her knees buckled as she finally collapsed, breathless, rain falling from the dark and ugly sky.


    Gary was twelve when he agreed petulantly to wish a certain girl good luck before she started on her ride to Professor Birch’s lab. He certainly didn’t know what to say that her parents and his own grandfather hadn’t mentioned several times before but he still decided against arguing. He remembered May only from the visit at her house when she had steadily ignored him.

    He sighed before moving into the direction of the screen and he found himself staring into blue eyes rounder than any others he had seen. She wasn’t afraid but so nervous that he wanted to reach out and put his hand on her head in a heartening gesture. But that was impossible so he settled for smiling confidently and hiding his self-consciousness. He didn’t even remember what he said later on, recalling only the thanks glimmering in her blues, and the fact that she hadn’t said anything to him when his grandfather came back onscreen.

    He found that he minded that very much only later when she waved at him in his dreams.


    May was twenty-one when she saw Gary at a café, an impatient and cross look over his face. She moved away a few chairs and then began to text immediately on her phone, her heart in her throat and her mind searching for advice. No one replied for minutes and she didn’t know what to do, go over to him or stay or leave as if she hadn’t noticed.

    She sat for an hour, looking back after much mental persuasion to see with relief and utter sorrow that he had left. She swallowed down a quiet sob and drained her mug before rushing out of the café into the streets where she walked until it grew too dark to see her own hands.


    Gary was six when he saw May peek around her father’s legs and give a small smile before turning away to go to her brother’s baby carriage. He had followed and stood while she knelt, almost as if examining the wheels and steel structure. She then stood and remained at Max’s side for the rest of the night, not once talking to him or becoming conscious that he was growing more and more uncomfortable by the minute. When they had finally left, Gary running to the car door without directing a good-bye to May, he swore he heard a soft farewell in the distance.

    As they drove away he resolved never to meet someone like her again. When his grandfather asked him how he found May, he angrily retorted that she was a terrible person. The old man teased him that he might find himself in love with her one day with those feelings.

    “She can like me. I’d just reject her.”


    Not a day goes by when they don’t remember, and miss, each other.

    It was only a year, others say when they reluctantly share their story, so they keep quiet about how in one year they found the other half of their soul.

    She sings the silly rhymes he made up as lullabies to her daughters.

    He plays with his wife’s hair when she’s asleep the way he used to with hers.

    And whenever they look into the mirror, they see each other, smiling with the words, ‘I’m here,’ on their lips.


    A/N: This one is probably my favorite =D I decided on this couple with the whole heartbreak theme once the song was chosen but I think it doesn't really mesh with the song itself, more like its lyrics actually. But still, I thought the whole organization of their story through their ages and stuff would be pretty cool so I hope you guys noticed how it was structured and got to appreciate it ^^ this ficlet isn't quite compatible with the song IMO so you can go ahead and skip on it (though the song is so catchy and good =D) but please! I'm not begging for reviews, not at all, I just want to hear direct feedback. The views on this thread must be from some people, so either rate the thread or just drop a line on one of the fics you liked. Just a minute of your time ^.~

  15. #15



    I fell in love, in love with you suddenly
    (Here in Your Arms from “Hello Goodbye”)


    He couldn’t say no but how could he say yes when she was pretty much asking him to die?


    He would never have enough courage to tell her there was enough already, stop shaking it, because her smile could always hide a deadly smirk.


    He wondered if it was possible to insist he liked “Dancing with the Stars,” for yet another night.


    He actually hated it but when was that the first time he kept anything secret?


    It was bothersome alright, but not as bothersome as having to see her enjoy it and then feel his insides squirm.


    There were days when Misty couldn’t put her finger on how he managed to seem so out of it but still aware that he needed to participate in whatever she suggested with a strange kind of fervor.

    She caught that pleading look in his eyes when she grabbed her keys noisily and asked if he would join her on a small joyride. It was her treat to him, she would explain and she sincerely meant it, and he would nod his head vigorously and sit inside stiffly.

    When nights at the gym had ended and the long days were over, sometimes she would feel just enough energy to offer to make dinner and that same gleam of mercy rose from the depths of his eyes. He worked just as hard as she did, she would thank him as she stirred and added liberal doses of salt, but why was it that from the corner of her eye, his hands twitched as if to stop hers?

    Then there were nights when they couldn’t go to sleep and met up in the living room, lights off but television and reruns of “Dancing with the Stars” on. She would always confirm that he was ok with watching it but he still seemed to gain tiredness and fatigue from just a few minutes; she wasn’t so enraptured to be oblivious she thought later on.

    Their shopping trips were the highlights of her week though, whether it be for groceries or clothes. She never knew how someone could stand her tendency to go over everything slowly and surely and then panic in the line and make sure every item had been covered. He always commented on how much fun he had but the only thing she remotely suspected he found fun were the free samples he hurried to when she couldn’t find the mustard.

    But the best time, no highlights or midnight memories, she ever had was watching him draw, his pencil moving fluidly over paper and his eyes narrowed in concentration. She found herself staring at him more often than the actual paper because he didn’t seem like the broad-shoulder, awkward, pushover guy she saw usually. Instead she found a very endearing and mature guy who simply didn’t know when to say what he wanted and seemed to think the world of her. And every time she came close to realizing that, she would look hurriedly back to his sketches, noticing that he seemed nervous and even a bit apprehensive.


    It wasn’t that he really minded all of the things he let her off on. It was just that he didn’t want to say no; she seemed like someone with everything already except for a friend who could agree 24/7. So he offered his service and it made him feel funny inside every time she smiled as if she knew what he was doing. But she didn’t- he was positive of this.

    She couldn’t possibly know that he might be praying for his life when she speeded around the curve or drove over the curb but he was also trying to hold in his own urge to laugh loudly.

    She couldn’t possibly know that he might be gagging from dinner but he found a sweeter aftertaste from his discreet sidelong glances as she relished her food.

    She couldn’t possibly know that he might be growing more tired by the minute before the television screen but that was because he was dreaming of them dancing in front of the crowds.

    She couldn’t possibly know that he might be exhausted from having to listen to her complain from store to store but he always liked how she remembered he was there, either to complain, or just talk to.

    She couldn’t possibly know that he hated when she saw him drawing not because she made him uneasy but because he wanted to make something as beautiful as her green eyes.


    The funny thing, she reflected as they walked home in contemplative silence, was that he didn’t know.

    That she knew about everything that is.

    And she preferred that.

    Because not only would she be able to watch as much “Dancing” as she wanted…but she could also hide how much she really appreciated him.

    He didn’t need to know that.



    A/N: I actually chose this song after "Hearts and Stars" and "Somewhere Waiting" popped up but because those songs are not at all compatible with Pokemon, I skipped them XD I am satisfied the way this one turned out because the organization and style were completely on the spot for me; I just decided to write it this way and the song does fit but it isn't as happy-go-lucky as I planned XP anyways, if you liked, please do leave a review; can't emphasize that enough x)

  16. #16



    No one else could heal my pain
    (There She Goes from “Sixpence None the Richer”)


    It was a simple mistake but it was the kind he certainly couldn’t smile and mull over in silence- no, it directed action quickly and effectively against her hushed giggles and lidded eyes. The mistake called for a consequence and he was certainly not going to let her find him the subject of such humiliation because there had to be a result and fate chose him.


    “Hey there! I didn’t know you’d be at the docks this late.”

    “It’s not something I do regularly.”

    “I see. Congrats on your match today, by the way. You were really good, I was impressed.”

    “You say that as if you had low expectations.”


    “I don’t know about you, but your company with that Ash and Dawn certainly gives me a rough estimation on how good you are.”

    “Hey- what the?! Come back here!”


    So he strode over to the table where she sat, the faces beside her familiar to him but now nuisances in the way and he coolly, casually, hands in his pockets and his eyes narrowed not in dislike but in the superior air of knowing what was to come, asked her to shut up.


    “You followed me all the way here because of that one comment.”

    “They all said you were kind of quiet but I guess they were wrong. Anyways, you take back what you said!”

    “It wasn’t even remotely insulting.”

    “Oh and I’m here wasting my time for no good reason then?”

    “I supposed you are.”

    “Well then, you’re a conceited jerk with an attitude problem.”

    “Isn’t that the same thing? You repeated yourself.”

    “Did you have to say that? I am walking away! You aren’t supposed to say something when someone is obviously going away that will obviously make them stop and answer you!”



    It was a simple mistake just a few moments before but then it swelled to become a fatal error that left him with his eyes widening and his mouth opening in surprise. She was now gazing at him as if she was a mirror, or worse, a camera showing him his expression just a few moments before- now, he gritted his teeth as she talked back, eyes flashing, her words merciless and piercing.


    “Now you are stalking me.”

    “I happen to be walking the same way. Stop being so full of yourself. Funny thing is now you aren’t even talking anymore, like you only did so because you were trying to rile me up.”

    “You are quite similar to her.”


    “The girl you are travelling with.”

    “I guess so…I mean we do agree on a lot of things I guess.”

    “You are at least better company than her.”

    “Can you ever say something nice about someone? Just say one thing, it’ll feel good, trust me.”

    “I’d rather not.”


    “Here’s my stop. You can get off now if you wish.”

    “Did you just make a joke? Wait a second! We’ aren’t finished talking.”

    “But I’m walking away.”

    “Hah! See, I just proved you’re a hypocrite.”

    “I take it back. All of you are exceedingly troublesome.”



    He could already see it forming and when she stood with cheeks bright red and her hands pressed to her hips, trying to calm her anger with thinly veiled insulting words, he couldn’t help but let himself go free as well. They stood there, bickering noisily and her companions sat meekly in the background, unsure of whether to intervene or sit back. It was a debacle and the mistake turning to error had turned into a chaotic blunder he would never be able to wash off. At the moment it died down and they stood warily, breathing heavily and exhausted from the exchange, he wished he had learned how to smile and mull over his incompetency in silence before meeting her.


    “You know, I noticed you actually reply back to me. Why’s that?”

    “Maybe because I’m trying to find the right response to drive you off for good.”

    “Heh, no such thing will come. I have had plenty of experience from people just as stuck-up as you.”

    “I feel for them.”

    “Shut up, you’re actually enjoying this. You’re getting to communicate with someone, even though your social skills need lots of work.”

    “Do you always insult people like this?”

    “Speak for yourself.”


    “Just say one nice thing.”


    “It can even be about someone who hate and you’re just lying. Come on, you can do it, just open up your mouth and say-”


    So now he had but one option left and so he lifted his chin and in his steeliest voice and with his hands clenched, he closed his eyes and blurted out what made the whole table sit upright and she laughed, her voice embracing him in an oddly tight and comfortable hug.


    “Just one thing!”

    “If by any chance I trip and land on my face and mustard spills over my shirt and I learn that an entire crowd was watching and as I stand the food is painted over my shirt, then I will.”

    “I’ll hold you to that!”


    “No need to stop. Just turn around and keep walking. I’ll be hearing from you soon I suppose.”

    “In that case, I’ll have a dearth of nice things to say.”

    “I know you have it in you!”




    “I? This is going to be about me?”

    “You are-”

    “Wow I guess you are really different from what I heard. You’re keeping to this.”

    “You are the most-”

    “Say it already Paul!”

    “Shush Ash, it almost looks like a confession!”


    “Hey you guys said that at the same time! What am I saying, Paul just spit it out.”

    “Patience you guys-”

    “You are taking forever!”

    “I agree Zoe-”

    “Please Dawn, let go of my arm-”

    “He’s turning pale!”

    “Zoe you aren’t supposed to laugh-”

    “Brock, help me here.”

    “Ok Dawn, Kenny looks a bit white-“

    “You guys-!”

    “Shut up!”

    “It’s ok Paul, you don’t really have to say it, I know you didn’t-”

    “You are the most interesting person I have ever met. The only reason why I kept talking to you is because you have some level of intelligence. And you are extremely impatient and optimistic but it’s very weird because you seem like someone who everyone should automatically love and protect and you’re a blatant idiot but I suppose you are somewhat attractive-”

    “He’s rambling…”

    “Shut up Dawn!”

    “That’s it.”

    “We missed the ending!”

    “Ash, your mouth is open.”

    “Brock, get her off me!”

    “It was a confession!”

    “No it-”

    “Brock, what is it?...”

    “Get off me Dawn, please!”

    “Kenny just pull, it’s easy-”

    “May are you ok?”

    “Ash sit back down.”

    “Hey he’s blushing!”


    Needless to say, it had been a very small mistake. He thought for a passing second that he had probably broken his record of words used in a conversation but then it was gone and he turned slowly. It didn’t make it any less of a mistake, he mused. And one that he found incapable of putting in hindsight seeing as he was now having to either ignore her pleased smile or reciprocate the happiness of the tangled companions gathered around.

    He did neither and sighing, walked away to wash off his clothes, hearing her footsteps following him as clearly as the heart inside him pounding away.


    A/N: I am not very pleased with this one XP I think maybe I just didn't get to explore all possibilities with this couple but if you liked it, then I guess I succeeded in ultimately making it a started off with none of the dialogue until I wrote the "blurted out" paragraph. Then I wanted the song to fit in, make it cuter and have some background so I added the backstory and the whole gang's dialogue and tried to make it as much fun as possible and not as heavy as before. The whole thing came to me as I was writing so blame it on that if you don't like it XD anyways please review!

  17. #17



    When I've seen where you've been
    (Symphony of Blasé from “Anberlin”)


    Ash hadn’t volunteered tonight but because they insisted and even swore that she had requested he come with her, he had relented and with a few grumbling murmurs as he exited the room, strode to the café they said she was waiting at.

    He didn’t want to go, see her eyes, watch her as she inevitably broke down and ended up clutching at his sweater, the small white clouds about her mouth growing larger as she sobbed. He would eventually wrap his jacket around her and then walk her to her apartment and hope that the stares he received would simply be wondering and not accusatory with a cell phone and complaint to boot. But even the desperate hold on his arm and her wide, blank eyes didn’t hurt him as much as the lingering scent of liquid he hated and never drank.

    She downed bottles and sometimes cans, and she’d grow even more energetic, laughing hysterically, kissing random persons, and slapping him eagerly on the back, her eyes inches away from his, her blue hair pushed around his face. But then she crashed, falling from her high so hard that she moaned, curled on the floor, her lips quivering and her voice hushed to a whimper.

    He made it a point to no longer go to parties or outings with her and the rest of them glanced at him warningly every time he declined and she visibly slouched in response. He could care less, he snapped uncharacteristically when they pressed him, and he turned away, trying to ignore the nagging tug on his heart.

    But he could not deny his responsibility to take care of her once she had slumped, so like tonight, he would reluctantly find her, let her embrace him with a muffled bawl, and then they quickly headed back, either in hot summer or cool spring or frosty winter wind.

    Snow swirled around them and he chanced a look at her now that she had grown silent and simply rested her cheek against his shoulder.

    “How much did you have?” Ash quietly asked, his tight hold around her loosening to a gentler hold.

    “I dunno,” she slurred and her head buried deeper into the crook of his shoulder and neck. He could feel his heart hitch.

    “Dawn, come on, I need to know,” he swallowed and shifted to move away from her and the smell of thick wine.

    “Maybe…if you-you, came…I wouldn’t,” she hiccupped and giggled, the small sounds echoing in his ears and burning his eyes so he stopped, feet paused in an inch of snow and turned to face her.

    “I shouldn’t be looking out for you all the time-”

    “Isn’t that what friends are for?”

    “Yes but-” he looked away in embarrassment but she was now talking rapidly, a light glowing in the previously deadened azures and a flush over her face.

    “What happened Ash? Why won’t you ever come with me anymore?” She approached him cautiously though she was already dangerously close to him, her nose brushing against his and he gazed back with a mixture of apology and dismissive anger. “I swear I won’t drink so much with you around, you always look out for me, you always distract me, you’re like-” she choked and suddenly crushed her face into his neck so he instinctively hugged her close, though he held his breath and his eyes widened.

    “I’m sorry,” she whispered repeatedly, in increasing volume so that her fingers were digging into his fleece and her tears were soaking through the thick clothes and dampening his skin.

    It hadn’t been so long ago but that one incident had made the small shots that he even was willing on the rare occasion to indulge in swell into gallons of waste pouring into her slight frame. It dulled the sheen of her eyes and hair, and she grew paler so the blood faded off her face and arms, and her voice was slow and unsure and he hated himself when he turned away in disgust, whether in the bar or on the streets or on the phone when he humored her, and decided to pick up.

    But what he really detested, despised, hated to an extreme that made his face hot and his teeth hold his tongue, was the pain with which she spoke afterwards, and how much weakness radiated from her.

    They, all the rest who were gathered together hoping that he wouldn’t lose his patience, knew it as well as he did but they tried still. They hoped that their coaxing and meaningless rebukes would cure her so she would miraculously show up with a healthy smile and a body without stale beer sloshing around inside the next day. He was realistic, though he never would have imagined being so, and he knew that no amount of hitting his head against the wall would help her in any way.

    Once upon a time, maybe he would have stayed the oblivious boy who she had come to know, the guy who could do the most difficult of tasks but saved his determination for anything other than practical chores and he was as dense as a guy should be with no reservations on a girl’s feelings or how to deal with puberty in the right way.

    But maybe was now never and he gritted his teeth and pulled her away to spit out what he wanted to say for so long- that nearly a year had come and gone but she was as restlessly naďve as ever- and he swore in that one moment to relieve everyone’s burden and make her understand she was killing them steadily, but not as fast as she was killing herself.

    She fell back for just a second before she lurched forward and she kissed him deliberately, with a force that almost made him slip and made him protest loudly. She didn’t seem to hear him and refused to let go, tears still slipping down her cheeks and her fingers still deep in the fleece so he finally tried to close his eyes.

    They closed. He tasted bitterness and loneliness and warned himself as the world grew dark when she finally released him but did not move away that he still didn’t want to help her, it would make no difference…but he kissed her back and cursed himself.

    At least he already knew, he assured himself as his hand found hers and they walked with an urgency he noted immediately, that he didn’t have to lie anymore. He could try again, try and lift her up without worrying about her resisting, because she was whispering in his ear what he had wondered about and secretly hoped for and now had.

    This could only lead to worse, he realized as they walked inside and didn’t forget to not turn on the light, but at least they wouldn’t regret what they had finally said.


    A/N: Drinking is bad no matter what age you are so don't do it! Any type of alcoholic beverage is deadly so don't try any! XD There's my disclaimer, and now for my little blurb ^.~ So yesh, Pearlshipping it is, and I think I only have Rocketshipping left but I probably will still continue writing these since they're fun and good writing exercise =D And hopefully I'll update more, because this one was so much fun to write and reminded me of how creative I can be x) It's kind of implied what happens at the end so hopefully you'll see this as a mature look into the two current leads...and you can guess what Dawn's problem was XD

  18. #18



    When you're too in love to let it go
    (Fix You from “Coldplay”)


    It was absolutely ridiculous how much time they had spent at this one shop. He was still seated though she had clicked her tongue impatiently for the third time. His straw went around the milky shake again, and he sighed, staring down into the sundae.

    She blinked and without another sound, sat beside him again and waited for him to get up first.


    The cashier peered over and asked if both of them would continue to sit there. When she ignored him, he raised his voice and tried to indicate the line of customers waiting for a seat. She stood up, glowering, and he shrank back immediately.

    She fell back on the cushioned chair and turned to look at the man next to her.


    “Let’s go now.”

    “I’m still hungry.”

    “You’ve hardly started your ice cream!”

    “I don’t want to leave.”

    “It’s getting dark and late and we should go!”

    “You can leave.”

    She growled softly and glanced into his lowered eyes but didn’t speak.


    The last few girls left, giggling and pulling down their short skirts. She glared at them, though she was relieved that there would no longer be any more frustrating laughter behind them. When she looked back to make sure he hadn’t been ogling by some miraculous chance, she saw nothing had changed. He was still busy gazing at the bright red cherry that she then took on impulse and dropped into her mouth.

    He gaped for a moment before breaking a small smile on his pale, tired face.


    The manager personally escorted them out but she watched his nervous, darting eyes to let him now she wasn’t taking the exit lightly. They walked slowly, letting the last of the air conditioning fade off into the warm night. She was bursting with questions and with a “told-you-so” but she was biting her tongue. It proved too painful after some time so she moved to her lip. His eyes never moved from the sidewalk and his steps were even and small.

    She finally grabbed his arm and swung him around, words pouring like water out of her mouth.


    She was always right about girls. After all, she was one. He was almost one, she had teased mercilessly years before, but that was years before and now he was just a kid, a boy, a man just as young as the kids she saw in strollers in the park. That didn’t make him less smart or talented or sensitive than her, because she was constantly outshone by the smallest of his doings. Girls may mature earlier but boys were always better. Except about girls, because she was one.

    She could tell the day he found her, that it wouldn’t last. The only thing she didn’t know was who would mess up.


    It lasted longer than usual. It lasted a bit longer than she had predicted. And it had lasted much longer than anything else she had been waiting to end for, so that she actually gained patience and learned how to control her emotions and not forcibly separate the two in public.


    On the fifteenth day, she called him up so many times he left the date early and was forced to stay in her apartment until she had confirmed he was in a right state of mind.


    During the fourth week, she made as many appointments with him as he did with her but she still was never able to see him as often as she wanted.


    In the middle of the second month he appeared on her doorstep with his arms wrapped around him as if the world had frozen over and his eyes blinder than how they usually were after break-ups. She considered shutting him out but thought about herself and let him in.


    He didn’t answer any of the questions and just gawked with a peculiar sense of forlornness. She felt him fading away again and gnashed her teeth together.

    “Well good thing she dumped you.”

    He made no reply.

    “You’re a big wuss. The biggest of ‘em.”

    He closed his eyes.

    “You’re a pansy! A man does the breaking up! You’re not supposed to lose self-esteem points! Get over it!”

    All the anger bottled up was being unleashed in a torrent like her questions. But they all felt empty and she could see them bounce off his shirt and thick blue-purple hair. She became very aware that people were staring and finally stalked off, not bothering to look back but still muttering.

    “Good thing she dumped you. Wusses like you aren’t supposed to be with rotten types.”

    She gave a quick look behind her. Sure enough, he was following her, though his mouth was open in wonder.

    “Moron. Idiot. Get over it!”

    She couldn’t help it. She had to yell now, because it was bringing back memories of a certain trio and how she needed to shout to let them know she was there.


    She smiled triumphantly and turned so suddenly that he nearly bumped into her.

    “That’s right. Next time I get to choose alright? After all, what good decisions would you make? That’s what I’m for.”

    He smiled faintly. She instantly grinned back.

    “Right. That’s what you’re for.”


    A/N: Coldplay is one of the best bands ever. I don't understand how people don't like them 0.o And this song is so beautiful, it almost always makes me cry =') Anyways so this theme was going to be kind of similiar to the last one and I wanted to do something lighter and more character-centric...I hope it was kind of obvious who they were *coughJessieJamescough* but it was really easy to write this =D please do leave a review! ^.^
    Last edited by dandelionheart; 4th November 2008 at 5:02 PM.

  19. #19


    This side reflected
    (Never Too Late from “Three Days Grace”)


    His head was in his hands,

    And then he looked up at me,

    And with the saddest eyes I’ve seen on this side of earth

    He asked me for my name.


    When Misty knocked on the door and there came no reply, she did not hesitate to open it right away. She had the patience to give him the benefit of the doubt- that he would not be endangering himself in any way- but after one knock, it was too much to bear.


    It wasn’t as if he was going to hurt himself. Thinking about it made her wonder, what made girls so weak that men couldn’t possibly cut themselves or do anything destructive after the death of someone close? What was it that made a man so strong against the fall of losing yourself to rage and sadness deep within that clawed and ate its way out?

    That was what she thought.

    He didn’t have to do it in multiple, lesser tries though.

    He just needed one final blow.


    He had shouted over the phone for her to come over now, come here right now, get over here damn it!

    So she came, not even bothering to dry her hair or change out of her swimsuit, just running to and out of her car, feet thudding and then skidding when she found him.

    He was on the floor, on his knees, his eyes on the palms of his hand and his phone beeping, making her heart stop and his sob echo louder and louder.


    When they saw Deliah for the last time, it had been almost excruciating to maintain eye contact and not to scream with desperate rage and fear- What God did this!

    She looks fine, she lied to Ash and when he struck away the hand she put on his shoulder, she flinched sharply, feeling the breath in her die away much too quickly so she ended up gasping for air.


    She couldn’t sleep.

    She dreamed constantly.

    She saw those haunts mirrored in his eyes and wished he would lose the deadness and snap at her, even slap her away and yell that she was nothing, that she cared nothing about her, the way he did the day Delia fell down those steps and didn’t get up.

    Delia died sometime between tripping on the first step and crashing onto the floor with a crack for her head and a snap for her wrists. She left behind a ghost wasting under bleached sheets and in dank rooms, sharing the space with tools for cutting and slicing.

    There was no longer any semblance to the mother Misty had come to recognize as the guiding light home. She always saw her waiting for him at the end of the day, waiting for him to talk to her, but never waiting for something to come and take her out of a life revolving around a boy with too much energy and too little time.

    Now what were left were her cheeks that were so thin that the outlines of teeth, yellowed when she smiled, shone behind them in the feeble light. Her bones trembled when she took Misty’s hand and she coughed violently, saliva and a trickle of blood and the pudding she had just been fed dribbling over her mouth and onto her emaciated chest.

    Misty lurched away, falling onto the ground, frightened and stricken, a cry embedded in her throat.

    Misty please, would you mind getting the remote by my side dear?

    Her eyes were covered in a sheen of grey and her hair was oily and clung to her neck, almost as if it was the noose tightening around her by the moment. Misty opened her mouth and then her eyes and thrashed about in bed, trying to chase away the tears pouring over her cheeks.

    It was hard to remember she confessed, wiping away the tears and leaning on her sisters’ arms, that nightmares didn’t only have to come when you were closing your eyes.


    When she ran into his room and knelt to pick up the phone, his arm pushed her aside with such speed that she had no time to react. She collided with the bed and yelled in confusion when he began to stomp on the phone with intense vigor.

    She could hear the panic in his harried breaths.

    She couldn’t watch after a minute and tried not to cry until he walked out of the room, leaving only small slivers of plastic all over his carpet.


    So when I uttered the word

    And his eyes glowed with relief

    He took my hand and whispered in a way to kill my harshly

    You came


    There was too much rain the day she was to be buried so they waited inside his house instead, watching the black window panes and trying to hide that they wanted nothing more than her presence and a flame in the fireplace and the comfort of looking into each other’s eyes for the first time in days.


    The day was rescheduled and then passed like any other day, weary and slow.

    He didn’t bother wearing black. He didn’t bother showing up.

    She gnawed on her lip until a venerable woman handed her a napkin to wipe her bleeding lip and then she turned around and ran back to the playground where she found him, almost comically too big for the swing.

    She whispered his name and he asked for hers when he looked up, broken from a trance.


    There wasn’t much we could do.

    I’m so sorry.

    We offer you our deepest condolences.

    Oh Ash-

    Are you sure you’re ok

    If you need anything

    Yes. I came. I promised I would.


    She tried to do it the way everyone else did.

    She thought about all the good things Deliah had done and responded with a small smile thanks, we’re doing fine.

    We’re doing just fine.


    It was a lie, as where the flowers, she spat at, and the cards she tore up, and the pauses over the phone that always made her want to slam down the phone.

    But that they were in it together, Ash and her, both of them waiting for something to come and relieve them, that was the truth of it all.


    She picked him up at 6.

    She never asked him how he was doing. She would wait, like the woman before her, for the time when he would know she wasn’t going away, it was alright to love again, and nothing was going to go wrong.

    She would make sure of it.


    The last day of it, the thing they didn’t explicitly state but always were aware of, he returned her smile.

    She led him to the car and drove back home with the radio on and the windows open.

    She kissed him on the cheek before he left.

    Then she started the long drive back home, slowly and surely and making sure she was keeping herself safe for the sake of a boy with too little energy and too much time.

    She had learned at least one thing, she promised herself.

    Even if it took lying to do it, she was going to stay with Ash until the last possible moment.


    A/N: I was so sure I had already done this song because this theme was very familiar to me already but apparently I hadn't XD anyways so I had just edited a mini FullMetal Alchemist AMV so the whole "mother" angle was in my head...and Ash and his mom have such a sweet relationship that I had to write it =D and I wanted the guy this time time be suffering x) so Pokeshipping emerged and yes, Misty is finally up and independent lol...I know there's only the shipping you squint to see but I hope people like this anyways, I have mixed feelings about it, I think it's ok XP please review! =)

  20. #20



    How I've been wasting my time
    (24 from “Jem”)


    24 hours left…

    What’s up? I’m fine. Really. Yep, I’m all alone here right now. There’s a TV here but there’s nothing to turn up the volume with so I’m trying to laugh at SpongeBob. Nope, not working. I guess so…

    So how are you? Don’t bother asking. What should I say? I mean you already- I mean you already know. Geez, I dunno why you’re so pis- fine fine. No stay on the phone- my voice? It’s fine…I just might be tired. Hah, hope the nurses aren’t listening to this…oh it’s on speaker. What you expect me to be holding a phone? That’s right you better apologize…sorry. I’m not mad, I’m just happy right now. I wish you were here so I could just kick you and get it over with. Whoa…yeah, that kick part was random.

    My head’s just spinning is all. I’m thirsty too. Bring me something from Potbelly’s? Please? Oh fine, you’re probably in traffic…see? I can be reasonable-

    Right now? I’m on a bed and there is stuff in me-what kind of stuff? I dunno- and there is a guy who’s staring at me like I’m already dead- what do you mean stop it?- and yeah, he says there’s nothing left that he can do and- don’t come here. Please. No seriously, shut up, I don’t want to see you. I’m not crying…really. I’ll hang up on you, I swear. No please don’t go, I’m sorry, no I mean it sorry, I’m so sorry…

    I don’t know. I feel so weird. Damn it. I feel too tired. No don’t go. Shut up and stay here. I don’t care if you get an ear tumor- you’re making me laugh…I don’t want to. That’s ok…say whatever you want.

    You’re an idiot. Dummy.

    18 hours left…

    Yes! I won! Told you I was the best! No, I did not cheat, how could I? There aren’t any internet cheats or codes for checkers…yes I’m serious. Oh shut up, you wouldn’t know anything about that. Well you were pretty good- I’m not boasting- hey wait, I have to get a final check-up. What? Pessimistic? Not really…no I mean it, it’s the truth- I’m not gonna cover up anything for you! Well I don’t care, leave, drop the phone. I hate it when you say that. What else am I supposed to do? Say that everything is great? Like I don’t feel like sh- sorry. I forgot not to curse.

    I’m gonna keep you up the whole day. What time is it, 3? Hah yes. Skip work. Yes you can, you’re not some goody-two shoes guy. That’s me. I’m really not boasting…oh that? Yes I told her it was my dying wish. What? Then how the hell was I supposed to make her keep the phone on? It’s my cell anyways. My own bill- yeah, I’m sure. Everyone’s looking out for me. What? Shut up. I’m not that special.

    Shut up you. Yes I know when to stop. You’re the only one I say that to you know- shut up I mean. Yep, you’re just that special. Of course I’m fine- oh I get it. Hah hah. So funny. You better get some more jokes, or at least riddles.

    You know I love you.

    Of course I’m joking. Hah, what, you think I actually like you romantically. Yes it is a laugh! Don’t flatter yourself…

    13 hours left…

    You’re bored. You don’t have to lie. I mean it can’t be that interesting talking to me. Isn’t this the longest we’ve ever talked?

    Yeah. That’s cool. What did she say? Wow, owned. No really, you need something good to text back. Say something like- what do you mean you’re not going to? That was a diss! I’m not riled up. I’m just kinda high on these meds. It is funny- I’ve never been this crazy before. I have? No, and don’t count that one time- oh please. It was like 2 shots. Thanks for dragging me home by the way. And nearly giving me a concussion. You know my house by now. Oh yeah I guess so- well a scratch levels out with an ugly bump on the head then.

    I’m not having fun with it- great, now Teen Titans is on. And I can’t even listen to what they’re saying. Don’t laugh…you just never watched it with me! Yes it is awesome, and no- I’m not a tomboy. Who uses that word anymore? Stop sounding so high and mighty all the time…

    Thanks you know. For those flowers. They’re dead now. I watered them too much- why? They looked dead already you know. Everything kinda looks black and white and bruised. I’m not hallucinating- you tell me to be nice?

    Yeah sure. Go ahead. No really I don’t- I’m not that easy to read! Go ahead and leave, I know you’ll be back in 2 minutes. Yes you will be. Wanna bet? I’m not taking this lightly- she needs you too you know…yep. Yeah, I will be. Yes I will still be here. Come on, where would I go?

    Oh. Well of course dummy. I mean it. Ok fine, I promise to pick up. Yeah, I swear. Even if they’re operating on me- ok fine. I’m waiting for 2 minutes though. You’re gonna be back.

    8 hours left…

    Sorry say that again?

    I can’t hear you, you know. Oh there you are…hah. The phone fell over. I think my ears are going first. Shut up. My mouth should? Oh my voice? That’s not that bad…is it worse by the way? The way I sound? I feel like a walrus just stuck his tusk into my ear…that is kind of graphic. Sorry pansy. I’m not getting meaner. I’m always mean. No I’m not.

    What do you mean I’m acting weird? This is the way I’ve- this entire day- no you be quiet. You don’t even know me! Shut up, idiot. I’m not hanging up. I’m not losing. I know it isn’t a game! You know, you’re one to talk- always acting like a snob. Yeah, cover up. What an image for all those girls? Other than your girlfriend? She is…well she pretty much is.

    She hates you now. I can bet on it. Oh yeah! You owe me. Because you lost. What do you mean you never agreed? It was actually right after you hung up. You just called me right back. Yep. Uh huh. What?

    I know you care.

    Who do you care more for? Me and her I mean. No seriously. I mean it. It’s a legit question. Tell me.

    I’m not weird. I’m not hallucinating. You’re the one who’s screwed up. Yes you can give an answer! There is no such thing as a stupid question remember? Stop laughing. Honest to God, you better tell me…Drew.

    Stop it.

    No I don’t like you, you idiot. I just wanna know. Tell me…


    Wait stop it. I’m-I-I’m, help.



    I-I, can’t…I can’t…help me! Help me! I’m bleeding!

    Someone help me! Some-someone-wait…help me!

    1 hour left…

    Are you still there?

    Yeah, sorry. I just feel so drowsy. Don’t be reckless, you’ll end up dying too and then we’ll have another waiting line up in heaven to go through…what was that stat? The driving accidents one? Heh, I’m kinda dizzy. I feel drunk. It’s funny that’s why. I like laughing…

    I’m not pessimistic. I’m trying to be like you. Yeah. Yes. Yes.


    I can’t hear you anymore. Did you hang up? Did you get into an accident? If you do, will I go to hell?

    Because I made you die dummy. That’s why. I’m sorry. I don’t even know if you’re still there.

    They’re coming back in. I think they’re going to cut this call.

    I’m not gonna let them. Ok Drew? I hope you hear this. I’m gonna be like you. They’re talking to me and I’m ignoring them.

    They’re taking you out. Stop it- no you can’t-

    I’m sorry. You better marry her. You better not die. You better never forget me. Hear me? You better not-

    Please don’t go away. Don’t leave me! Drew?! Can you hear me? I’m crying, I’m not lying anymore! Give him back! Don’t go Drew! Stop it, let me go! Drew- Drew, wait…

    I don’t wanna leave you. I’m sorry. I mean it- I don’t want to ever leave you…

    Drew! You freaking liar! You love me too! You love me too! Admit it!

    You love me too!


    A/N: Was it depressing? =0 lol that was probably one of the most interesting things I've ever written, I personally like this one a lot, I feel very proud of it =) For anyone wondering as to the girl's identity, it's Misty haha, it should have been obvious out of the pool of girls I'm writing with the it's another Waterflowershipping fic, although it's up to you as to whether it was one-sided or actually reciprocated...for anyone thinking she might be OC here, I knew that it had to have Misty's feisty fighter spirit and have a certain mean edge, but I wanted her to be moody and dangerously upsetting, her mindset had to be just out of control...and as to the idea, can you imagine a 24-hour phone call? This song is so creative and touching, I love it, and so I think I lost track of how many playings it took because I was really concentrating on this one =3 I hope you enjoyed anyways, and hope that the people who got to relate had some understanding...please review! =D

  21. #21



    Another kiss as we’re lying on the pavement
    (Take My Hand from “Simple Plan”)


    They didn’t have time to think.

    It was either ‘get in the car and let’s get out of here’ or just stay through a few more hours of church service.

    Dawn didn’t need another moment to think and she was already tugging at his hand, leading him through the parking lot, laughing so loud that her lungs hurt and her eyes were clouded with unshed tears.

    He needed just a second to take out his keys and they were in the car, twisting on the ignition and slamming down on the accelerator so that the tires squealed and they didn’t notice they needed high beams until they were on the main road.

    It wasn’t as if they had a choice, running out of the building, their feet pounding on the floor in a steady tattoo telling the world they had a choice and wanted out. It was more like a desperate meet of the eyes and suddenly they were out, broken out of eggshells and into a burning frying pan with nothing but the feel of each other’s hand and the knowledge that they weren’t alone.

    Dawn wasn’t quite sure why she had suddenly turned and felt sick, tired of coming home from cheerleading practice and feeling her legs constantly ache- and then suffering through a tutor more interested in staring at her legs than guiding her through calculus because her parents had insisted.

    The guy next to her, ‘Gary’ he had grinned eagerly when they sped down the slick road, rain pelting the windshield and a few rumbles of thunder deep behind the black clouds, felt it, too. The programs, the volunteer work, waiting for some time so that he could go home and try to finish his projects and study for the SAT and wait impatiently for his partners to hurry up and do their part so he could at least get three hours of sleep before the big soccer game the next day. Something told her he had gotten out of bed with only an hour and a half.

    But it was no big deal now. Some connection had pulled them out and all other strings had fallen limp so that they didn’t even need to worry about the stupefied stares and indignant yells behind them. They were in his car and it had just taken a glance, a few shared words, and then a mutual burning in the eyes that made them instantly smile and take off.

    It was raining harder than before and the air conditioning was on but it was still stifling in the car and he was pulling his tie loose and she was slipping off her gloves. A red light flicked on and they slowed, breathing normally and blinking away the dryness of their eyes.

    “So, how old are you?”

    His voice was smooth and steady and his eyes were focused on hers as he rested his head on his hand, leaning to the side to watch her.

    “16. You?”

    She still had her confident smile and self-assured pose, resting on the reclined seat, never taking her eyes away. The jeep behind them blared angrily and they both laughed easily as Gary pushed down again to let the car speed away- so fast, it felt as if they were gliding just inches off the ground.

    He took it around a bend and then just beyond the curve, he jerked it to a stop and turned the motor off. Before she could react and ask what he was doing, he had thrown the door open and stepped out, sighing as the cool air rushed in. His leather seat was getting drenched and his suit was losing its crisp press but soon she was out as well, her silk dress weighing her down so she kicked off her heels and spun around.

    There was no sense of urgency or the feeling of pondering what you could do so that you could take care of all the hard assignments later. They were both laying on the road now, waiting for a car to come so they could leap up and scare the driver but no one came so they simply closed their eyes and let the rain dance on them.


    He turned his head slightly and their eyes locked again.

    “Why’d you bust me out?”

    It wasn’t as if they had never met before and then suddenly had a soul sharing secret that allowed them to come outside. He had seen her several times before and she had heard his name dropped in idle conversation more times than she bothered to count. Still, seeing a stranger before you suddenly go with you into a raging world where a car was the only way you were going to go anywhere and everywhere was comforting and called for familiarity.

    “You looked bored.”

    “Well I was honestly. Bored out of my mind. And I actually have to do a big project, too.”

    “Aren’t you screwed then?” He chuckled softly and the moonlight danced on his sharp features.

    “I might die of pneumonia,” she stated seriously.

    “That would solve your problem,” he agreed solemnly and they both silently laughed.

    She rolled onto her stomach and propped her cheeks on her palms, waving and crossing her feet in the air.

    “You’re on the soccer team right?”

    He nodded and she continued slowly.

    “You were captain- why’d you give up your position?”

    “Too much to do,” he sighed and turned his sight onto the bruised sky. “I have literally no time left, and with no time to do the things I want, how can I do them properly?”

    His voice shook with regret and on impulse, she moved until she was right beside him and she could smell the coffee from the service on his breath. His eyes were back on hers and they were wide with surprise and some other emotion that reminded her strongly of those boys who no one caught gazing tenderly at a girl much younger and much livelier than them.

    “Thanks for driving me,” she whispered and when he made a small noise in his throat, she quickly clambered up and extended a hand.

    “Now I realized I don’t want to die of pneumonia. At least not while my GPA depends on it,” she smirked and he slapped his hand onto hers.

    The doors shut around them and they rolled up the windows and turned on the radio so they didn’t need to feel the silence close around them.

    People had already started exiting and were moving around to their cars when they pulled into a spot and surveyed the scene. A few girls were hurrying towards them and Dawn unbuckled her seat belt and smoothed her dress over the legs before shoving the door away. The girls clung to her arms and scolded her, never taking a peek into the darkened windows to see the boy making sure she was a safe distance away before revving up.

    He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and exhaled, feeling a soothing patience despite the long line waiting just to leave the parking lot. Her hand suddenly knocked on the window and he signaled it down, a few last drops of rain falling on his sleeve. She was silent for just a moment.

    “Practice ends at 5.”

    He blinked.

    “I need to get to my tutor’s house after that. Wait for me right by school ok?”

    He slid his thumb against her temple where some glitter shone faintly.

    “Got it,” he drawled and she winked, quickly running back and moving out of his sight.

    He hadn’t had time to think. She hadn’t either.

    In the end, it didn’t really matter. They would have done it sooner or later anyways.


    A/N: I wish I had time to write out a full length fic for a lot of these ficlets but because I don't, I might as well just look at these as short samples XP this one I felt was really rushed but I still think I got the full message across...surprisingly, it worked super well with the song though I hope it doesn't rely too heavily on it and stays independent =) This pairing is actually really cute and I think Dawn would look best with him, though Penguinshipping is my DawnOTP =D And this song is my new obsession, Simple Plan is awesome! XD anyways please review?? please? =D

    EDIT: The lovely Nayuki pointed out to me that most 14 year olds don't take calculus and that 14 year olds usually don't have that packed of an I changed a bit =D thanks <3
    Last edited by dandelionheart; 18th November 2008 at 3:57 AM.

  22. #22



    Even if you cannot hear my voice
    (Run from “Snow Patrol”)


    It’s called leukemia.

    She got it when she was 12.

    I wasn’t there.


    It made her face shrivel like the prunes she hates eating.

    Her hands are so cold that I wear gloves to hold them.

    I keep blaming myself when I see her cry unexpectedly, in the middle of a sentence.

    I don’t know why.

    Maybe it’s because I freeze and can’t do a damn thing.

    Except stare.

    And keep her hand in mine.


    Her gums bleed and she doesn’t like to move.

    She thinks there’s no way out.

    I try telling her she’s wrong.

    But maybe I am, after all.

    It wouldn’t be the first time.


    It’s called lupus.

    And it’s all one big game filled lots of puzzles and mysteries.

    I resent them for thinking that they could get away with telling me everything.

    Just because they were wrong doesn’t mean I don’t need to know anything.


    At the same time, I can understand.

    There’s a boy next to me and his hair is always messy but he’s combed it and he always laughs at me but now he tries to laugh with me.

    The problem is, I don’t laugh.


    One day I want to go out and just run, and actually get some exercise.

    It’s so cramped here, with a bed that’s hard and a pillow that’s flat.

    I haven’t seen myself in a mirror for days and I know my breath must smell.

    I hope I’m not too crabby but it’s hard to smile when you feel very, very, very sick.


    I think it’s called lupus.

    We’re at the wrong hospital.

    I know it’s all wrong and they’re going to come and say, actually you were right and yeah, she gets to live.

    I would like to make a bet but so far, everyone in this ward had either died or is a heartbeat away from heaven.

    Or hell I guess, whatever God decides.


    I think she’s having the worst time of her life.

    And I think I’m probably the stupidest person in the world.

    You won’t believe this, but I told that to her.

    She didn’t even punch me on the arm.

    She just slouched more and agreed, trying to perk up and failing miserably.


    It’s called cancer.

    I think I have it, too.

    You go this long knowing what your body wants and needs, and you can positively feel the cells growing and exploding inside of you.

    I think I’m going to be sick.


    Kenny won’t go away.

    He seems to think that I’m going to burst out into song so that dreadful look on his face will finally go away.

    I think I might have a problem with me.

    Not just physical, or something inside, but something mental.

    I keep thinking how it would feel to kiss him.

    And then I realize that we can’t because we’re so young and so much like siblings that he’d catch what I have.

    On the other hand, I would keep his company.

    Because I really don’t want Kenny to go away.


    It’s called a tumor.

    I think it’s what happens when God really likes someone so he decides he needs them up in heaven.

    DeeDee seems to think that she’ll be promoted to an angel immediately.

    I tell her she already is one and she stares and tries to wink and I look away.

    I’m very tired.


    She’s going to get cured.

    Otherwise I’m going to end up in this ward, too.

    My eyes are so red that people worry about a contagious infection.

    My voice is so hoarse that people visibly shy away.

    I think something’s spreading.

    It’s called apathy.


    I think it’s also what happens when someone has done something very bad.

    But she hasn’t.

    I should know, seeing as how I keep an eye on her.

    She’s older by 3 months but she stills throws tantrums and pouts and so I need to take care of her.

    It’s getting harder to do that.


    I think I figured it out.

    A tumor is what happens when someone is about to die.

    It’s what happens when people need to stop being so happy and stare open-mouthed when you tell them.

    It’s what happens when your mother drops her teacup and your father rushes to the telephone.

    It’s what happens when the girl you really like suddenly kisses you and you notice that you have chapped lips.

    I think that’s it.


    I’m going to die slowly.

    I don’t want to.

    But I am.

    Get it?


    He brought me a mirror today.

    I succeeded in not screaming but I threw it down to the ground and it cracked.

    He gave me Kuro, his stuffed bear he’s had since I met him.

    I threw him down to the ground too and then asked for him again.

    Kenny gave him back and I sat back and just waited, bored again.


    She says she hates life but she still looks over all the magazines she’s subscribed to and reads those large novels about girls sleeping around in school.

    She shops online and she collects stickers to put on the hospital paper and she sleeps with my bear.

    And her lips taste like strawberries and her eyes turn deep blue when she refuses to blink or look away as you stare at her.


    Let’s all go somewhere today.

    Somewhere far, far away.

    Where we still play in sand and gravel and clay.

    Where we don’t worry about death and how it makes you choke while you breathe.



    It even looks morbid right?

    She doesn’t want it on her stone, she wants this:

    “Too bad, so sad.”

    I tore the paper up.


    He started crying in front of me, that’s why I screamed for him to get out.

    You know, I shouldn’t have yelled- I think that’s the last thing he’ll here from me.

    It’s only leukemia.

    Or lupus.

    Or cancer.

    Or a tumor.

    Wait, that’s the same thing right?

    Well, what does it matter…I’m the one dying anyone right?


    Maybe if she saw that someone cared, she would open up herself and stop looking like a prune.

    I told her that.

    She called me stupid and then, trying not to cry, said she was a raisin.

    They’re the same right?


    Maybe I like him.

    Or maybe I’m on rebound…from life?

    That would be the greatest irony I have ever seen, even more than in all those worthless English discussions.


    I think when I go up, I’m going to ask if I get to be a guardian angel.

    Considering I did nothing of worth here, maybe up there has something so I don’t even live on worthlessly.

    That would just depress me.

    Or maybe that’s not even possible.

    Heaven doesn’t make you hurt.


    I think she’s already gone.

    I kissed her today.

    She didn’t move.

    Maybe she was just asleep.

    But the way I see it, at this point, it makes no difference if she’s here or not.

    She’s just going to keep making me upset.

    I think this is what you call cathartic?

    When you start hating someone because they’re making you hurt?

    Is that even correct?

    Oh well.

    Who cares right?

    It’s all the same in the end.

    Someone dies.

    And someone’s heart dies with her.


    A/N: I was wondering whether to keep the split-line function gives and to make it clearer for you guys, I did x) well angst seems to come naturally to me although I'm not quite sure why I keep applying it to Pokemon characters...maybe because they need to grow up some XD I don't know how well I did on this one but I actually did some research during my writing time and tried to make it as honest as possible...people might wonder (if they do...) that there is no explicit night theme and I actually meant for this to take place the night DeeDee dies D: the girls never get lucky, the guys can get depressed but nope, the girls don't stand a chance lol! I blame it on only depressing songs coming up, even though this song might be one of my very favorites and so it was hard to write without just enjoying it x) anyways! review? =)

  23. #23



    You’ll never see me like this
    (Walk on the Moon from “Asobi Seksu”)


    Snow fell silently as did the tears on her cheeks.

    Her lips parted but no words came from her throat, covered in a thick red scarf whose threads she was idly plucking out.

    He walked farther and farther away until he turned, smiling and the camera winking as he put it up to his eye.

    She wanted to pull away from the man and his arm around her shoulders, and she desperately wanted to keep from sobbing and telling the truth.

    The real truth was that she had lied about what she meant for so long, she actually wondered if it was true in the darkest hours of morning when the man next to her had his arm over her waist and she could feel his breath on her neck as she lay awake.

    She desperately thought of a word, something so alone and lonely, to let them know, all of them, the ensemble crowded around for one lens to capture and imprint their faces for digital memory, that she was dying.

    She finally hiccupped and whispered his name, feeling the man with her turn slowly and the girl beside her, blink in curiosity and then she screamed it so he could stop smiling and not take the picture.

    She fell to her knees, the pavement hard under her stocking-covered knees and the shock of cold air rushing by her face muffling the cries of surprise as the girls crowded anxiously around her, but none as close as the man whose face was just an inch away.

    She didn’t move but breathed slowly and then closed her eyes, shaking her head to let some numbness float away.

    They took her arms and she was lifted up and dusted off and she finally smiled with a horrified blush, apologizing so many times that everyone had forgotten what she had said when she had crashed down.

    He stayed quiet, and smoothed back her hair so when she nodded a sniffing yes, she was fine, he sighed and took her hand tightly in his.

    The man with the camera approached cautiously, his eyes wide and his black hair tousled around his dark face. He put a hand on her shoulder and led her away, acting as if the discreet wink had gone unnoticed by her.

    “Afraid I’m gonna leave for so long, you’ll miss me too much?”

    He was teasing but it hurt so much to have him joke about something she really didn’t want to confront.

    “I think you scared the hell out of Drew.”

    She wanted to ask if he was scared, too. She wondered if he knew he was so impossibly earnest it was making her melt and burn, feeling hot and cold flashes fade in and out so quickly that she was swaying slightly and drawing closer to him.

    “You’re ok right?”

    “Not really.”

    Maybe she could have said otherwise a year ago, when she didn’t know how hard it was to give life and then understand that the life needed to be taken away. Maybe if she had known that she was going to cry so hard and so often when she looked at the pink room with a stuffed rabbit smiling, dimples and ribbons and all, she would have simply forgotten about marriage and a house and the quiet solitude of resting a hand on a stomach holding a pearl only for her. Now though, waking up to see that man always next to her in front of her with a blank stare, not even attempting to explain that her baby couldn’t come to her because it was dead and in a box where she couldn’t reach, made her curl up and stop breathing.


    She looked up and he was pulling a face, eyes crossed and cheeks puffed out. The exact way he did it when they were alone and she could talk to him freely, feeling even closer to him than with that man, the one she stayed with at night, feeling something completely different. She laughed, a choked sob coming out but then she was blinded by a flash.

    She knew how careful everyone was being, picking her up like she was a fragile doll and refusing to throw her out because there was some sentimental value stored away in the eyes that only closed when she lay down. That man seemed to hold on closer to her but she suffocated, feeling for the first time his inability to understand anyone, his odd banter, the infuriating way that he was only happy when she was happy or at the end of his joke. There was no way to talk to him and she shied away from his touch and she snapped when he tried to be easy-going because it was so false, she wanted to spit.

    So when the man with the camera showed her the picture, her mouth opened and she forgot about it all. She was miserable in the frame and even the man with the camera seemed to notice it but he caught her laughing and there was a small flame of hope hidden in her eyes.

    “It’s me.”

    “Well of course it is. I think it’s actually a great picture.”

    She took the camera from him and fumbled with it until she held it up to her eye and his bemused face appeared on the screen. He had just a moment but he drew himself up and smirked and then she pressed the button.

    “Oh let’s see!”

    It was him, the same black eyes determined and careless and the left curve of his mouth and the wide smile that made her bite her lip.

    “It’s you.”

    He turned and she pulled him close so that her mouth was by his ear and she could feel him shiver at the contact.

    “And that’s how I’ll always see you- Ash.”


    A/N: I really wanted another shot as Advanceshipping since my previous one was much more introspective and seeing as how a pattern of angst and style has emerged, I wanted to experiment again =D So I love this song, as usual, but I'm still not very clear on the meaning, especially because it is written in such an interesting I tried to put my own interpretation and for those wondering what the storyline was (hopefully I made it clear though) May gave birth to a stillborn and now has a crumbling marriage with suspicious Drew and new affections for an unsuspecting Ash. XD This is what I mean by writing full-fledged fics but ah whatever, I am pleased with this one, it seems to have a good pace and I explored what I wanted =3 please review!
    Last edited by dandelionheart; 18th November 2008 at 4:02 AM.

  24. #24



    Never felt so good to be so wrong
    (Hero/Heroine from “Boys Like Girls”)


    There are restrictions on how fan-girls should act.

    They are not allowed to pass the security line, clearly outlined he always liked to add, and try to jump on him, squealing loudly how he was her favorite person in the whole world.

    After hearing that sentence of praise hundreds of times consecutively, the charm was completely lost.

    He looked away with a pained smile and sometimes he had to remember to grin a little harder because his manager was whispering warningly as the fans stared up adoringly, “stop looking like you want to kill them.”

    God bless her, he said after every interview, conference, event, awards ceremony. She walked stiffly by his side and simply shook her head in exasperation as he slipped an arm around one of the more sophisticated women at the after-party and made quick work of charming the whole ensemble of women, regardless of age.

    Other than her.

    She refused to dance, standing tall and straight with a glass of wine in her hand, taking the occasional sip but usually conferring with other agents, her flaming hair and rimless glasses giving off an intense secretarial vibe.

    She didn’t resent her job, or at least that was what he always heard from her when they were driving back to the hotel and he was wasted and she had had to pull him out before he started a scene. He liked that his new but already growing fame and reputation credited him as someone ready and always speaking his mind, slightly violent to the paparazzi, cool and distant to the fans.

    She sometimes suggested he be kinder to the girls waving excitedly on the street or the mothers smiling sheepishly as their daughters swooned as he signed their small slips of paper.

    He promptly shut down every piece of advice and when she had worn out of energy at the end of the day, she would keep her mouth closed and eyes away so that she could properly ignore him.

    It was part of the job qualification. Kiss them lightly, the ones in the gowns; take them to your room, the ones catching him in the evening casually; keep it all under wraps, everyone staring at him either in awe or glee or hate.

    He wasn’t quite sure what she saw when he came up on television, surrounded by women, joking easily with everyone he met, the commentators gushing over his unique voice and his amazing skills.

    He swore that sometimes she even smiled but he doubted it was anything but mock pride, seeing as how she probably hated him, her job, and her position, forced into the spotlight but unable to be right there in the focus.

    He was genuinely surprised that despite all the celebrity connections and various hook-ups and break-ups, no one ever suspected if she had a chance, could have been a quiet case. The industry followed a trend that he followed religiously but she seemed to want to bend all the rules, refusing to let him do what he wanted and letting him do only what she thought was necessary.

    He didn’t hate her. He teased her endlessly, sometimes curling her red hair around his long fingers and when she was busy shuffling papers, he stole quietly to her side and bit the curve of her ear. She slapped him on the shoulder, punched him on the arm, even kicked him with her heels, but she always explained that she didn’t mind. Maybe she knew that he never would do something serious with her and maybe as she said countless times before, she honestly thought he was still a teen not quite experienced yet in love.

    Not that that was accurate- love was waking up and then shooing a girl out without giving her time to dress. Love was a heavy make-out session in the dark corners of a bar where you weren’t supposed to be. Love was the look in those girls’ eyes when they found him on the street and still didn’t know anything about him but wanted to so much, it hurt them every day.

    At least, he was pretty sure that was it. She had quite a different opinion- and it wasn’t the flower and chocolate crap he laughed at daily. It was talking for hours on the phone, walking alone to reflect in twilight breezes, waiting for hours so a certain train could come, hoping for a letter, email, card just to let her know he was ok, the guy tucked away in a corner remote from the bustling city life of her client.

    He didn’t want to admit it, but he had to. Sabotaging relationships and creating drama was for the press and he was no advocate of them, but it irked him to see her glowing, glass off, hair down, curled up with a cushion on her lap, talking to the man miles away he had never met.

    He would snap at her to get him a drink or just to come and shown him the plans and she would sigh and cut the call but never seemed to lose that euphoric daze. She could hit him as hard as she wanted, and his arms would be quite sore, but that hurt was nothing like the one he experienced when he was riding in the limo, completely full on alcohol until he realized with a start that she had been left behind at the party.

    He didn’t even want to care that much- there were rules for attachments. There were rules for what he wanted to talk about concerning himself and the past and what he wanted to do now for the future but she broke each one, leaving the brittle bone scattered and her deep green eyes as the only rule he needed to know.

    “Its dependency!” his friends joked but he couldn’t quit the nagging feeling that maybe he appreciated it all. That maybe he was jealous- and then it was all gone in another swig of the can.

    Love was what the fan-girls exuded. There were rules for that. Why he let her, a simple, tall, skinny, gangly, fiery, impatient, loving, kind-hearted girl push him around and take him to a better place than the hellhole he suffocated in with all that smoke and drink, he had no clue. Maybe it was because he had been so raw, she was serving as a band-aid- small but hopeful, on his skin where others rarely noticed but he could feel it stay fast and stay with him.

    He thought about letting her go a few times.

    He didn’t understand nor like the changes coming over him.

    But it didn’t make him feel any better after the idea had passed.

    You see, there were rules for the mass media, the girls, the men, and the whole party scheme.

    But as far as she was concerned, there was and probably never would be anything limiting what she was to him. That was oddly comforting and as far as he was concerned, he even approved.

    Behind every man was a great woman, after all.


    A/N: Can someone be subconsciously influenced by a single lyric? O.o I swear, I pick out the line that I use for the title right before I start writing and I promptly forget about it but I guess it sets the mood in the writer-brain-portion because it always seems to fit and relate back! XD I'm not complaining, it's just freakishly cool x3 Anyways! So as soon as this lovely song came up, Gary popped into my head and I wondered which girl to use XD I settled on "ego" and it's cute so the whole singer and tough manager angle worked :3 This could again have even been a multi-chapter standalone fic but whatevs XD I'm satisfied with this one but the ending feels blah to me so ehh XP anyways! review?? =D you lazy readers of mine, just drop me a line (hey that rhymed!) please? other than Nayuki~! =)

  25. #25



    And it's all in my head
    (Mr. Brightside from “The Killers”)


    He hated the both of them.

    They were kissing and holding hands and he realized how much he loathed the sight of them and wanted them to disappear.

    She was too pretty to be with him and he was too much of the common crowd that he never respected to be taking her arm and escorting her around town, wanting nothing more than to lay in bed, having done it all without needing to worry about asking, he was sure. Compliance was granted, and he gritted his teeth in remorse.

    But there was nothing to be done, something reminded him, and he wanted that voice to disappear too, everything to melt away so maybe he could start anew.

    “Want to come with us?”

    “Why would I want to?”

    That was him shooting her down and that was him dying from his lack of faith. But there they were, the unfaithful, kissing and unable to realize his hidden feelings.

    Damn it all, he would say in shock and she would squeal in frustration if he was to tell them. That was an understatement he admitted, but what more could he do? Imagine the best and that she would go to him? And that man, with the large, eager eyes and thick, tousled hair would smile and wish them the best?

    Fat chance, he would crow and so would the unreasonable voice whispering excitedly in his ear to calm down and let the party start.

    So much for friendship and vows and promise rings and waiting for the right opportunity and then crying over spilled milk.

    He was lying in bed wanting nothing more than her beside him, her hand on his chest and his around her waist, in the dark, feeling lips on lips and heated breath build up to the smallest of gasps. But he was taking it all away, that man with the oblivious voice and the way to make her sigh and laugh, so easy, so comfortable. Where was the pressure, the tension, the way he made her teeter on the edge, blush furiously, flirt with an almost kiss?

    Was he just a ghost? But even ghosts had the chance to haunt and they seemed to ignore any passing thought of him and he punched his pillow soundly.

    But he swore he saw them. He swore he saw her rise onto her toes to meet his much taller stance, to reach for his parted lips. He was positive of what he saw; he had no doubts, nothing to hinder his thoughts.

    He swore, and the voice laughed in delight.

    He wanted to be fierce with her and push her down and take her before the other did and make sure it was his own name she was calling out and not the one without any common sense, with a poor sense of victory and loss, but with everything to understand about right or wrong.

    He could tell that it wasn’t his laugh or nibbles on the ear and teasing that made her smile. It was that man, the one who she was kissing and letting him take her to the restaurant, the party, the hotel, the bed.

    The adventures they would go on, the way they would find how to make the other close his or her eyes, all of it was lost to him.

    “You’re overreacting.”

    But he swore it was true. He saw them. He swore he saw them, the both of them just standing until she reached over with mouth open.

    He swore it.

    Because what else could they have meant? What else could he have seen?

    A kiss was a kiss and the way they had looked at each was the key, nothing more or less.

    So he swore he would make them both see what he wanted and they would comply, because this compliance was to be granted.

    And she had to be his.


    A/N: Drew can be so obsessive can't he? XD This song is one of the most famous you gotta admit, not only because of it's amazing music but the lyrics that have puzzled fans for a long time...and so when this came up, I already had the lyric for my title and it subconsciously affected my storyline once again x) I had started off with Ash being the jealous lover but Drew's hastiness and lust (XD) fit the theme a lot more so I stuck with one-sided Contestshipping...still don't like the ship at all but I admit it's a lot of fun to write =3 Also, it should be obvious that Drew is just being a possessive jerk but the "did they really kiss thing?" is not one I'm going to answer lol! You guys can think of your own ending ^.~ anyways so review? Drop a line if you can, it will make my day =)

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